














GIFT OF 


SEELEY W. MUDD 
and 
GEORGE I. COCHRAN MEYER ELSASSER 
DR. JOHN R. HAYNES WILLIAM L. HONNOLD 
JAMES R. MARTIN MRS. JOSEPH F. SARTORI 
to the 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
SOUTHERN BRANCH 





































































































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THE CARAVAN. 


ARABIAN DAYS? 


ENTERTAINMENTS. 


Translated from the Gernan, 


HERBERT PELHAM CURTIS. 


BOS T ON: 
PHILLIPS, SAMPSON AND COMPANY, 


138 WINTER STREET. 


1858. 
§5042 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1858, by 
HERBERT PELHAM CURTIS, 
In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. 


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PREFACE. 


THE Translator submits the following stories to the 
public, with a conviction that they will be found to afford 
amusement to a wide and very varied circle of readers. 
They are a connected series of tales, written by no 
means solely for children, but suited as well for readers 
of a larger growth and maturer intellect. 

The popularity attained by them in Germany has 
been and still is immense, and it is believed that an 
examination will show this popularity to be well de- 
served 

Three or four of these stories, only, have already 
appeared in this country in sundry magazines; but it is 
thought that the present is the only complete and per- 
fect translation of them which has ever been made in 
any language. A French version of Part Third was 


published in Paris, with excellent illustrations, in 1857. 


IV PREFACE. 


The Translator ventures to suggest that the interest 
of these tales will be increased by reading each Part con- 
tinuously. The various stories are so closely connected 
with the narrative which unites them, that, though each 
is a whole in itself, much will be gained, he believes, by 


attention to this recommendation. 


CONTENTS. 


TRANSLATOR’S PREFACE. 
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INTRODUCTION. 





PRINCESS FAIRY-STORY IN MASQUERADE. 


In a fair and distant empire, on whose gardens of 
perennial verdure report says the sun never sets, has 
reigned from the beginning of time to the present day 
the lovely Queen Phantasy. For countless centuries 
has she scattered unmeasured blessings over her peo- 
ple, and been loved, honored and adored, by all who 
knew her. But the heart of this queen was too large 
to permit her to confine her benevolence within her 
own domains. In her royal attire of eternal youth and 
beauty she was wont to descend from her lofty realm 
to this earth; for she had heard it said that here dwelt 
beings, called Men, who dragged on painfully a life of 
labor and struggle. To these wretched creatures she 
brought the finest treasures of her empire; and ever 
since this beautiful queen traversed the dreary plains 
of Earth have men become joyous over their labor, light- 
hearted in their desolate misery. 

To cheer mankind, she sent down her children, also, 
no less lovely and amiable than their royal mother. 
After one of these missions, Fairy-Story, her eldest 
daughter, came back from the earth. Her mother saw 


8 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


that Fairy-Story was sad, and thought she noticed that 
her daughter had been weeping. 

‘‘What grieves you, dearest Fairy-Story ?”’ said the 
queen. ‘‘ Ever since your journey you have been sad 
and miserable ; will you not confide to your mother the 
cause of your unhappiness ?”’ 

‘« Alas! dear mother,’’ replied Fairy-Story, ‘‘I should 
keep silence, spite of your inquiry, did I not feel that 
my wrongs were no less yours.”’ 

‘«Speak,”’ answered the beautiful Queen Phantasy. 
‘«Sorrow, my daughter, is a burthen weighing heavily 
on the lonely, but easily sustained by two sympathiz- 
ing, loving souls.” 

‘‘It is your will,”’ answered Fairy-Story ; ‘“ therefore 
hearken. You know how gladly I mingle with man- 
kind, and with what pleasure I seat myself in the cot- 
tages of the poor, to beguile their hours of leisure after 
their daily toil. They have ever hitherto fondly greeted 
me when I came, and looked after me with smiles and 
love when I went away. But it is so no longer.” 

‘* Poor Fairy-Story !’’ sighed the queen, stroking her 
daughter’s tearful cheek; ‘may not this change be 
mere imagination ? ”’ 

‘‘Believe me, I know too well,’”’ answered Fairy- 
Story, ‘‘ that Iam loved no longer. Wherever I go I 
meet cold looks; nowhere is pleasure shown at my 
approach ; even the children, who used once to love me 
so fondly, now scoff at me, and scornfully turn their 
backs.” 

The queen leaned her brow upon her hand, and sank 
into deep thought. 

“And why is it,’”’ at length inquired she, ‘‘ that men 
have so much changed ?”’ 

“Alas! they have appointed a body of watchful offi- 


INTRODUCTION. 9 


cers, who examine with sharp attention and carefully 
test everything which comes from you realm, O 
queen! Now-a-days, if any stranger makes his appear- 
ance, with credentials not in accordance with their laws 
of taste, they raise a furious outcry, and either strike 
him dead on the spot, or calumniate him so much with 
mankind, who believe every word they say, that he can 
no longer win men’s love. Ah, how happy are my 
brothers, the Dreams! They glide joyously and lightly 
to the earth, caring nothing for the vigilant watchmen, 
visit the human race in their slumbers, and weave 
enchanting pictures before their mental vision.” 

‘Your brothers are merry and light of foot,’’ said the 
queen ; ‘‘ but you have no cause to envy them, my dar- 
ling. I know the officers you speak of well. Mankind 
are not so much in error to commission them; for they 
have been visited lately by many an empty, impudent 
fellow, who pretended to have come directly from my 
fairy realm, and yet at best has merely obtained a fleet- 
ing glimpse of us from some distant mountain summit.” 

‘But why do they make me, your only daughter, 
suffer for these impostors’ sins?’’ wept Fairy-Story. 
‘““Ah! if you only knew how they have treated me! 
They laughed at me as an old maid, and threatened, the 
next time I came, not to admit me to their dwellings.” 

‘“What, a daughter of mine! not admit her!” ex- 
claimed the queen; and anger deepened the rose in her 
cheeks. ‘‘ But I see clearly whence this comes; your 
wicked aunt has calumniated us! ”’ 

“What! Aunt Fashion? Impossible!’’ cried Fairy- 
Story. ‘‘ She has always been so friendly to us!” 

‘‘T know her, the traitress!’’ answered the queen. 
‘‘But make another attempt, in spite of her, dearest. 
Who would do good, must not be idle.”’ 


10 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


«* Alas! mother, if they should expel or malign me, 
so that men will no longer receive me ; or if they should 
make me stand in a corner, lonely and disgraced ! ’? — 

‘« My darling, if the old, deceived by your Aunt Fash- 
ion, estimate you beneath your merits, turn your 
thoughts to the young. They are my favorites; to 
them I send my fairest visions through your brothers, 
the Dreams; nay, I have often visited them myself, to 
fondle and caress them. My name, indeed, they have 
never heard; but they know me well, and I have seen 
‘them laughing with pleasure to see my stars by night, 
and clapping their hands with glee when my shining 
flocks draw slowly towards the zenith in the morning’s 
light. As they grow up they love me still, for I help 
the sweet young girls to weave their pretty garlands, 

_*and the noisy lads become silent when I seat myself at 
their side on some lofty peak, and, from the cloud-land 
of the azure hills around, cause lofty towers and palaces 
to rise before their sight, or paint squadrons of bold 
knights, or trains of weary pilgrims, in the crimson glo- 
ries of the west.” 

““Q, the dear children!’ cried the excited Fairy- 
Story. ‘‘ Yes, I will return to Earth once more and 
visit the children !”’ . 

“Ay, dearest daughter,’ said the queen, ‘go to 
them. I will give you a beautiful dress, so that you 
may please the younger folks, and not be pushed out of 
doors. by the old ones. I will give you the robe of 
an Almanac.”’ 

“An Almanac, mother! 0, I should blush to be 
dressed so magnificently before people ! ”’ 

The queen made a sign, and her attendant ladies 


Tight an Almanac’s superb apparel. It was brilliant 


INTRODUCTION. 11 


with gleaming colors, and beautiful figures were woven 
in its fabric. 

The ladies of the court arranged the fair maiden’s 
long locks, bound sandals of gold on her feet, and 
arrayed her rapidly in the handsome robe. 

The modest Fairy-Story dared not raise her eyes, but 
her mother gazed at her with delight, and clasped her 
in her arms. ‘‘Go,’’ she said to her darling daughter, 
‘‘eo, and carry my blessing with you. If they despise 
and reject you, come back to me, and be patient. Per- 
haps later generations, more true in their allegiance to 
nature, will hereafter gladly open their hearts to your 
appeals.”’ 

So spoke Queen Phantasy, and Fairy-Story descended 
to this earth. She approached with a beating heart the 
place where the learned sentinels dwelt, and, sinking 
her head upon her bosom, drew her robe closer about 
her, and with hesitating steps approached the door. 

“Halt !’’ cried a deep, harsh voice. ‘‘ Turn out the 
guard! Here comes a new Almanac!” 

Fairy-Story trembled in her shoes. Several old men, 
of forbidding aspect, started forward. They held point- 
ed feathers in their hands, and levelled them at Fairy- 
Story. One of the guard stepped up to her, and with 
ungentle hand took her by the chin. ‘‘ Hold up your 
head, Sir Almanac,’’ he cried, ‘‘ so that we can look in 
your face, and see whether you are good for anything!”’ 

Fairy-Story with a deep blush lifted her head, and 
lowered her dark, beautiful eyes. 

‘“‘Fairy-Story!’’ cried the rata laughing 
heartily. ‘‘ Fairy-Story! A new marvel! How came 
you by that dress? ”’ 

“‘ My mother gave it me,’”’ answered Fairy-Story. 

“So! you would smuggle yourself among us in mas- 


12 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


querade! Ha! impossible! Away with you! pack 
off at once! begone!’”’ cried the watchmen, with one 
voice, poising their sharpened quills. 

‘‘ But I came only to see the children,” sobbed Fairy- 
Story. ‘Surely, you will not refuse me this? ”’ 

‘“The mob of such visitors is too large already,”’ said 
one of the watchmen. ‘‘ They only teach our children 
nonsense.”’ 

‘Let us see what she knows,” spoke another. 

“‘Yes,”’ they cried, ‘‘tell us what you know; but 
make haste, for we have little time to waste.” 

Fairy-Story raised her hand, and wrote many signs 
in the air with her fore-finger. At once gay images 
were seen to pass along; caravans, fine horses, count- 
less tents on sandy deserts ; birds and ships on stormy 
seas; lonely woods; populous streets and squares ; 
battles and peaceful emigrations; all these hovered 
around the watchmen in living, brilliant, animated 
throngs. 

Fairy-Story, in the zeal with which she had conjured 
up these scenes, had not perceived that the watchmen 
at the gate had dropped one after another into deep 
sleep. She was about to summon up more visions, 
when a courteous gentleman approached her, and took 
her hand. ‘‘ Look, sweet Fairy-Story !”’ said he, point- 
ing to the sleepers ; ‘‘ your lovely pictures are not for 
such as these. Slip quickly through the gate while 
they remain unconscious of your movements, and follow 
out your own plans, unmolested and at peace. I will 
lead you to my children, and give you a quiet, easy 
corner in my house ; there you shall live and carry out 
your wishes in your own charming way; and when 
my sons and daughters have studied their daily tasks, 


INTRODUCTION. 13 


they shall come with their playmates and listen to your 
teachings. Will you come?” 

“OQ, willingly; most willingly!’’ answered Fairy- 
Story. ‘0, how earnestly will I strive to amuse their 
hours of leisure ! ” 

Her new friend smiled kindly, and helped her to step 
softly over the feet of the slumbering sentinels. Fairy- 
Story looked behind her with a joyous laugh, and 
slipped quickly into the house. 

2 


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THE CARAVAN. 





Once on a time a great caravan was passing through 
the desert. Over the vast plain, where nothing was 
visible on every side but sand and sky, could be heard 
already in the far distance the bells of the camels and 
the tinkling of the horses’ silver chains. A dense cloud 
of dust concealed their position; but, as often as 4 
breeze lifted the dusty veil, gleaming arms and bril- 
liant costumes glittered on the sight. 

This appearance the caravan presented to a man who 
was approaching it from the side. He rode a superb 
Arabian horse, covered with a saddle-cloth of leopard’s 
skin, and silver bells hung from its straps of scarlet 
leather. On the horse’s head waved a plume of heron’s 
“athers. The rider had an air of great nobility and 

lor, and his dress corresponded in magnificence 

beauty of his steed. A white turban, richly 

vith gold, protected his head ; his coat and his 

isers were of a brilliant crimson ; and a curved 

-, with a richly-embossed and jewelled hilt, hung 

_ side. He had pressed his turban low over his 

sorehead; and his black eyes, gleaming from under 

massive eyebrows, with his long beard and high, 
arched nose, gave him a bold and martial aspect. 

When the horseman came within fifty paces of the 
head of the caravan, his steed bounded forward, and he 


THE CARAVAN, 15 


reached in a few moments the van of the procession. It 
was such an unusual event to see a single horseman thus 
journeying across the desert, that the guard, fearing a 
surprise, levelled their long lances. ‘‘ What!” cried 
the rider, observing the hostile character of his recep- 
tion, ‘“‘ think you a single man will attack your cara- 
van?’’? The guard, ashamed of their fears, swung their 
lances back over their shoulders, while their captain 
rode up to the stranger, and demanded his business. 

‘‘ Who is the owner of this caravan ?’’ inquired the 
knight. 

‘Tt belongs to no one man,’’ was the answer, ‘‘ but 
to several merchants, who are returning from Mecca to 
their native country, and whom we are escorting 
through the desert to protect them from ruffians.”’ 

‘‘Then lead me to these merchants,’’ demanded the 
stranger. 

“That is impossible at this moment,’’ answered the 
captain ; ‘‘ for we must advance without delay, and the 
merchants are behind us at least a league; but if you 
will ride on with us till we halt for our noon-day rest, I 
will then do what you ask.” 

The stranger made no reply; but, filling a long pipe, 
which had been till now tied to his saddle, began to 
smoke in long, steady pulls, meanwhile riding forward 
near the leader of the vanguard. The latter could 
make nothing of the new arrival. He did not venture 
plumply to demand his name; and, skilful as were his 
efforts to open a conversation, the stranger, to all such 
observations as ‘‘ You smoke good tobacco,”’ or ‘‘ Your ° 
horse steps well,’ answered merely with a short “Ay, 
ay.”’ At length they reached the place selected for 
their noon-day halt. The leader posted his men as sen- 
tinels, himself remaining with the stranger, to wait till 


16 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the caravan came up. Thirty camels, heavily laden, 
passed by, accompanied by armed keepers. Behind 
these, mounted on beautiful horses, came the five mer- 
chants to whom the caravan belonged. Four of them 
were men of advanced age, and of grave and dignified 
aspect ; but the fifth seemed much younger, as well as 
gayer and more animated, than the others. <A large 
number of camels and pack-horses closed the proces- 
sion. 

Tents were now pitched, and the camels and horses 
picketed outside. A large tent of blue silk was erected 
in the centre, to which the captain of the guard con- 
ducted the stranger. Passing the curtain of the tent, 
they saw the five merchants seated on cushions 
wrought with gold, and partaking of rich viands and 
sherbets handed them by black slaves. ‘‘ Whom do you 
bring us?” cried the youngest merchant to the cap- 
tain. Before the captain could answer, the stranger 
interrupted him: ‘‘My name is Selim Baruch, and I 
came from Bagdad. On my way to Mecca I was cap- 
tured by a horde of robbers, and three days since 
escaped from their imprisonment. The Prophet permit- 
ted me to hear your caravan bells in the far distance, 
and therefore I came. Let me travel in your company. 
You will be extending your protection to no unworthy 
person, and when we reach Bagdad I will amply reward 
your courtesy, for I am the nephew of the grand 
vizier.”’ 

The oldest of the. merchants took upon himself to 
‘reply. ‘Selim Baruch,’ said he, ‘‘ be welcome. It 
gives us great pleasure to be of service to you. First 
of all, sit down and eat with us.”’ 

Selim Baruch took his seat with the merchants, and 
ate and drank. After the repast was ended, the slaves 


4 


THE CARAVAN. 17 


cleared away the relics, and brought in long pipes and 
Turkish sherbet. The merchants sat a long while in 
silence, blowing out volumes of blue smoke, and watch- 
ing it float, rise and vanish in the air. The youngest at 
length broke silence: ‘‘Thus have we sat,’’ said he, 
‘‘ for three days, on horseback or at table, without find- 
ing means to amuse our tedious hours. I suffer greatly 
from ennui, for I am accustomed after dinner to see 
dancing, or listen to song and music. Know you not 
some way, my friend, by which we can make the time 
pass more swiftly ?”’ 

The four elder merchants smoked on, in thoughtful 
silence, while the stranger replied: ‘‘ With your per- 
mission, I will make a proposal. I suggest that at 
every halting-place one of us shall narrate his adven- 
tures or tell some story to the others. This would 
cause our time to slip away agreeably.” 

‘‘Selim Baruch, you have said well,’’ said Achmed, 
the oldest of the merchants. ‘‘ Let us adopt the sug- 
gestion.” 

“‘T am rejoiced to have pleased you,” said Selim ; 
‘‘and that you may see I mean only to be fair, I will 
begin myself.” 

The five merchants pressed eagerly around him, 
placing him in their midst. The slaves re-filled the 
cups, loaded afresh their masters’ pipes, and brought in 
hot coals to light them with. Selim cleared his voice 
with a deep draught of sherbet, brushed away his long 
moustache from before his mouth, and said: ‘“ Listen 
now to the history of Caliph Stork.” é; 

Q* 


18 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


THE HISTORY OF CALIPH STORK. 


I. 


Once upon a time, the Caliph Chasid, of Bagdad, was 
sitting comfortably of a lovely afternoon on his sofa. 
He had been snoozing a little, for the weather was 
warm, and he was looking all the brighter for his brief 
slumber. He was smoking a long rosewood pipe, and 
drinking occasionally a little coffee, brought him by a 
slave, and stroked incessantly his flowing beard as if he 
felt particularly well and happy. In short, the caliph 
was evidently in excellent spirits. He was particularly 
accessible on these occasions, though his disposition 
was at all times mild and affable, and this was the hour 
invariably selected by his grand vizier, Mansour, to visit 
him. Sure enough, he made his appearance at the 
usual time, but, contrary to his general custom, looking 
very thoughtful and meditative. The caliph took his 
pipe a moment from his mouth, and said: ‘ What 
makes you so pensive to-day, grand vizier ?”’ 

The grand vizier crossed his arms over his breast, 
made his obeisance before his master, and answered: 
“My lord and master, whether I appear pensive I know 
not; but at the castle gate stands a pedler, who offers 
for sale such beautiful wares, that it vexes me to have 
so little superfluous money.” 

The caliph, who had for some time past been wish- 
ing to do a kindness to his grand vizier, sent his 
black slave down to bring up the pedler. He soon 
came back, bringing him with him. The pedler was a 
little thick-set fellow, of dark complexion and ragged 
attire. He carried a box stored with all sorts of wares, 


S 





THE CALIPH STORK, 


ay 








aa eee — 


THE HISTORY OF CALIPH STORK. 19 


—pearls and rings, richly-ornamented pistols, cups, 
combs, and many other articles. The caliph and his 
vizier looked the collection through, and the caliph 
selected at length a pair of beautiful pistols for himself, 
and another for Mansour, and a comb for the vizier’s 
wife. As the pedler was about to shut his box, the 
caliph caught sight of a little drawer, and inquired 
whether he had any wares in that also. The pedler 
drew it out, and showed in it a box containing a blackish 
powder, and a paper with some strange writing upon 
it, which neither the caliph nor Mansour could read. 
‘‘T obtained these things some time ago,”’ said the ped- 
ler, ‘‘ from a merchant, who found them in the street, in 
Mecca. I do not know what they mean. They are at 
your service for a small sum, for I can do nothing with 
them.’’ The caliph, who delighted to collect old manu- 
scripts in his library, although unable to read, bought 
the box and the writing, and dismissed the pedler. The 
caliph, however, thought he would like mightily to 
know what the writing meant, and asked the vizier if 
he knew nobody who could decipher it. ‘‘ Most excel- 
lent lord and master,’’ answered the vizier, ‘‘ there is a 
man living in the great mosque, who is called Selim the 
Wise, and he is said to understand all languages. Let 
him be summoned ; perhaps he can interpret these mys- 
terious characters.”’ 

The learned Selim was speedily summoned. ‘Se- 
lim,’’ said the caliph, ‘‘ they tell me you are very wise; 
take a peep at this writing, and see whether you can 
read it. If you can, you shall receive a new suit of 
clothes ; if you cannot, you shall have twelve blows on 
your back, and five-and-twenty on your feet, because 
men call you Selim the Wise without reason.”’ 

Selim prostrated himself humbly,,and said: ‘‘ My 


20 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


lord, thy will is law.” He frored a long while over the 
writing, and suddenly exclaimed: ‘‘ This is Latin, my 
lord, or I’ll consent you shall hang me! ”’ 

‘Tell us what it means,’’ replied the caliph, ‘if it is 
Latin.” 

Selim began to translate: ‘‘ Man, who findest this, 
praise Allah for his goodness. Whoever snuffs of the 
powder in this box, and at the same time says, in a low 
tone, ‘ Mutabor,’ can change himself into any animal he 
chooses, and will also understand the language of 
brutes. Should he wish to return to his human form 
again, let him bow thrice towards the east, and repeat 
the same word. But when he is transformed, let him 
beware lest he laugh; for, should he do so, the magic 
word will instantly vanish from his memory, ane he 
will remain an animal forever.” 

When Selim the Wise had read this, the caliph was 
enchanted beyond measure. He bound the learned 
man by an oath not to divulge the secret, gave hima 
beautiful robe, and sent him away. To his grand 
vizier he said: ‘This I call a good bargain, Mansour! 
How delightful it will be to become beasts! Come 
here early to-morrow. We will go out into the fields 
together, snuff a little at my box, and then overhear 
whatever is said, whether in the air, the water, the 
woods, or the meadows. Praises to Allah! there are 
plenty of brutes in my dominions.”’ 


j 84 


Tue Caliph Chasid had scarcely dressed and break- 
fasted the next morning, before the grand vizier made 
his appearance. The caliph stowed away the box of 
magic powder in his girdle, and, giving orders to his 
escort to remainpehind, he and the grand vizier started 


THE HISTORY OF CALIPH STORK. 21 


off on their excursion alone. They first traversed the 
vast gardens of the palace, seeking in vain for any 
living thing on which to prove their power. The vizier 
at last suggested that they should go further away to a 
certain ditch, where he had often noticed storks, which, 
by the gravity of their demeanor and the noise they 
made, had frequently excited his curiosity. 

The caliph assented, and both went to the ditch. As 
they came to the edge they perceived a stork walking 
solemnly up and down, on the look-out for frogs, and 
occasionally muttering something in a low tone to him- 
self. At the same time they saw far up in the air 
another stork hovering down upon the place. 

“J will wager my beard, most noble master,” said 
the grand vizier, ‘‘ that these two spindle-shanks will 
carry on a fine conversation with each other. Suppose 
we change ourselves into storks.” 

“‘Well said!’’ answered the caliph. ‘‘ But let us 
consider first how we can become men again. Ah, yes! 
bow towards the east three times, say Mutabor, and, 
presto! Iam caliph and you grand vizier again. But 
for the love of heaven no laughing, or we are lost for- 
ever!” 

While the caliph was speaking, he saw the other 
stork floating over their heads, and slowly descending 
to the earth. He drew his box of powder from his gir- 
dle, took a good snuff, held it out for the vizier to do 
the same, and both exclaimed, ‘‘ Mutabor! ”’ 

Instantly their legs grew small and red, their fine 
yellow slippers turned into ugly storks’ feet, their arms 
became wings, their necks sprouted from their shoul- 
ders and grew a yard in length, their beards disap- 
peared, and their bodies were covered with soft feath- 
ers. 


22 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


“You have a beautiful beak, grand vizier,’’ said the 
caliph, after a long pause of astonishment. ‘‘ By the 
beard of the Prophet! I have never seen so fine a one 
in my whole life.”’ 

‘Thanks, your highness,’? answered the vizier, 
bending low. ‘If I might venture on the liberty, I 
could assure your highness that you look perhaps hand- 
somer as a stork than asacaliph. But, if it be your 
pleasure, let us take a closer look at our fellow-beings 
yonder, and see if we really understand the storkish 
language.”’ 

The other stork had meanwhile reached the ground. 
He dressed his feet with his beak, laid his feathers in 
exact order, and approached the other. The two newly- 
made storks hastened to get within hearing, and listened 
with amazement to the following conversation : 

‘Good morning, Lady Longlegs! Out on the meadow 
so early?” 

“‘Thank you, my dear Noisybeak! Yes, I’ve been 
eating a morsel of breakfast. Will you take a hind 
quarter of lizard, or a nice frog’s leg to-day ? ” 

“‘ Many thanks, my lady; but I have no appetite. I 
came to this meadow for a very different purpose. I 
must dance to-day to entertain my father’s guests, and 
I want to practice a little in private.”’ 

With this the young stork began to stride about the 
meadow with the most extraordinary motions, and the 
caliph and Mansour looked after her with astonishment. 
But when she placed herself in a picturesque attitude 
on one foot, and fluttered her wings with affected grace, 
our two companions could restrain themselves no longer, 
and a burst of irrepressible laughter issued from their 
beaks. 

The caliph was the first to recover his gravity. ‘This 


| 


THE HISTORY OF CALIPH STORK. 23 


is a joke indeed,’’ he cried; ‘‘and worth its weight in 
gold. Too bad that these foolish creatures bave been 
frightened away by our laughter; for beyond question 
they would have given us a song before long.”’ 

But it now occurred to the grand vizier that laugh- 
ter was expressly forbidden during their transformation. 
He imparted his uneasiness to the caliph. ‘‘ Mecca 
and Meina! it would be a dreadful scrape, indeed, if 
I were forced to remain a stork all my life! Try to 
recollect the wretched word, for I can’t possibly bring 
it to mind!” 

«We were ordered to bend three times towards the 
east, and say, at the same time, Mu— mu—mu-® 
mu—” € 

They faced to the east, and bowed so low that their 
beaks almost entered the ground. But, 0, woe! th® 
magic word had escaped their memories, and howevel 
low the caliph might bend, however desperately his 
vizier cry ‘‘Mu— mu—,”’’ all recollection of the word 
had fled, and the unlucky Chasid and his vizier were, 
and continued to be, storks. 


I. 


Our bewitched victims wandered sadly through the 
fields, not knowing, in their abyss of misery, what to 
do. They could not lay aside their storkish bodies, nor 
could they return to the city and make themselves 
known; for what people would believe a stork if he 
said he was the caliph? and, fancying them for a mo- 
ment so credulous, could it be supposed that the inhab- 
itants of Bagdad would submit to have a stork for their 
sovereign ? 

They wandered thus for several days up and down, 
sustaining their lives miserably on wild fruits, which 


24 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


they could hardly eat on account of their long beaks. 
They could find no appetite for lizards and frogs, fear- 
ing permanent injury to their stomachs by such titbits 
as these. Their sole pleasure in this sad condition was 
their power to fly, and they flew very often to the roofs 
of Bagdad, to see what was going on there. 

The first day they noticed great mourning and lamen- 
tation in the streets. But, about the fourth day after 
their transformation, they were sitting on the roof of 
the caliph’s palace, when they saw beneath them a gor- 
geous procession. Drums and fifes were sounding, and 
> man, in a scarlet mantle embroidered with gold, was 
pitting on a handsomely-decorated horse, surrounded by 
eesplendent followers. Half Bagdad ran after him, and 
nvery one shouted: ‘“ Hail, Mizra! the Preserver of 
wagdad!’? The two storks on the palace roof looked 
it one another, and the caliph said: ‘ Do you suspect 
gow why I am bewitched, grand vizier? This Mizra is 
the son of my mortal foe, the mighty wizard Kaschnnur, 
¢vho in an evil hour swore vengeance against me. But 
{ do not renounce all hope. Come, faithful companion 
of my misfortunes, let us visit the grave of our Prophet. 
Perhaps in that holy place this witchcraft will be over- 
powered and expelled.” 

They soared from the roof of the palace, and flew 
straight to Messina. 

They were not very successful in flying, however, for 
the two storks had had as yet but little practice. ‘O, 
my lord and master!’ groaned the grand vizier, after 
a couple of hours’ flight ; ‘‘ with your gracious permis- 
sion, I can hold out no longer; you fly too fast for me. 
Besides, it is already evening, and we should be doing 
well to seek for some place of shelter.” 

Chasid was not indifferent to his servant’s request ; 


THE HISTORY OF CALIPH STORK. 25 


and perceiving a ruin in the valley below, which seemed 
to promise well, thither they turned their flight. The 
place seemed to have been in former times a castle. 
Beautiful columns still projected from the ruins; and 
several apartments, still in tolerable preservation, at- 
tested the ancient splendor of the edifice. Chasid and 
his attendant went up and down along the corridors in 
search of a dry place to sleep in, when suddenly Man- 
sour came to adead halt. ‘‘Lord and master,’’ he 
whispered, softly, ‘“‘if it were not disgraceful in a 
grand vizier, and still more so in a stork, to be afraid 
of ghosts, I should be in a terrible fright, for close by I 
hear very plainly a great groaning and sighing.’’? The 
caliph also paused, and heard very distinctly a faint 
moan, sounding more as if made by a man than an ani- 
mal. He was about to seek the place whence the 
sound appeared to issue, when the grand vizier laid 
hold of him by the wing with his beak, and implored 
him fervently not to expose himself to new and unknown 
dangers. Allin vain. The caliph, who carried a bold 
heart under his wing, tore himself away, with the loss 
of a few feathers, and hastened down a dark passage. 
He soon came to a door standing only on the latch, and 
through which audible sighs, accompanied at intervals 
by a low wail, reached his ear. He thrust the door 
open with his beak, and remained fixed in astonishment 
on the threshold. He saw in the ruined chamber, 
which was dimly lighted by a little latticed window, a 
great night-owl sitting on the ground. Plenteous tears 
were rolling from her large, round eyes, and harsh 
lamentations poured from her curved beak. As soon as 
she caught sight of the caliph and his vizier, who had 
~meanwhile slunk after, she uttered a loud cry of delight. 
_ Sheywiped the tears from her eyes, in a graceful manner, 
3 


26 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


with her brown spotted wing, and exclaimed in good 
human Arabic: ‘‘ Welcome, noble storks, welcome! 
Your arrival is a precious token of my speedy rescue ; 
for it was once foretold me that a great happiness would 
come to me through storks.” 

When the caliph had recovered from his surprise, he 
made a graceful bow with his long neck, brought his 
feet into a courtly attitude, and said: ‘ Night-owl, 
after what you have said, I can easily believe that I see 
in you a companion in misfortune. But, alas! vain is 
your hope that rescue will come to you through us. 
You will yourself recognize our inability to aid you 
when you hear our melancholy story.”’ 

The night-owl requested him to go on, and the caliph 
proceeded to tell her what we already know. 


Lis 


Wuen the caliph had ended his recital to the owl, she 
thanked him, and said: ‘Listen now to my story, 
and learn that I am no less unfortunate than you. My 
father is the King of the Indies; I am his only daugh- 
ter, and my name is Lusa. The same magician, Kasch- 
nur, who bewitched you, also brought this misery upon 
me. He came one day to my father, and demanded me 
in marriage for his son, Mizra. My father, who is a 
passionate man, ordered him to be thrown down stairs. 
The villain knew how to creep again into my presence 
under another form; and, while I was taking some 
refreshments on a certain occasion in my garden, he 
brought me, in the disguise of a slave, a drink which 
changed me immediately into this frightful figure. He 
then carried me, powerless with horror, to this place, 
and shrieked in my ear, with a hideous voice: ‘Here 
shall you remain, hated and despised even by brutes, 


THE HISTORY OF CALIPH STORK. 27 


till the day of your death, or till some one, in spite of 
this hideous disguise, takes you voluntarily to be his 
wife. Thus dol take my revenge on you and your 
insolent father.’ 

‘« Many months have passed since then. I live like a 
hermit in this deserted spot, lonely and miserable, ab- 
horred by the world, an object of horror to the very 
brutes. Fair nature is darkened to me, for I am blind by 
day, and only when the moon sheds down its pallid 
rays over these ruins, does my impenetrable veil fall 
from before my eyes.” 

The owl ceased, and again wiped her eyes with her 
wing, for the recital of her sorrows had unlocked her 
tears once more. 

The caliph was plunged into deep thought by the 
story of the princess. ‘‘If I am not greatly mistaken,” 
said he, ‘‘ there exists some secret connection in our 
misfortunes ; but when shall I find the key to the mys- 
tery?” 

The owl answered: ‘“ My lord, I have also this pre- 
sentiment; for in my early infancy it was foretold me 
by a wise woman that a stork would bring to me great 
-happiness at some period of my life. Perhaps I know 
already the means by which we can save ourselves.”’ 

The caliph, much astonished, inquired her meaning. 

‘«The magician who has involved us in this wretched- 
ness,’”’? answered she, ‘‘comes once a month to these 
ruins. There is a hall, not far from this chamber, where 
he holds high revelry with his companions. I have 
often watched them without his knowledge. On such 
occasions they often describe to each other their evil 
deeds, and perhaps he will mention next time the magic 
word which you have forgotten.” 


28 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘©Q, dearest princess!”’ cried the caliph, ‘tell me, 
when does he come, and where is the hall.” 

The owl was silent a moment, and then said: ‘‘ Take 
it not ill, noble caliph ; but only on one condition can 
I answer your questions.” 

‘‘Speak! speak!”’ cried Chasid, ‘‘ Your will is 
law.”’ 

‘‘T would fain be free myself; and this can only hap- 
pen if one of you will offer me his hand.” 

The storks seemed somewhat confounded at this pro- 
posal, and the caliph signed to his vizier to retire with 
him for a moment. 

‘‘Grand vizier,’’ said the caliph, when they were out- 
side the door, ‘‘this is a bad business, but you can 
manage it very easily.”’ 

‘‘Indeed!’’ answered the vizier; ‘‘ to have my wife 
scratch out my eyes when I go home again! Besides, 
Iam an old man, and you are young and unmarried, 
and can surely give your hand toa young and beautiful 
princess |” 

‘Just so,’”’ sighed the caliph, drooping his wings in 
dismay. ‘‘ Who told you that she was young and beau- 
tiful? It is like buying a cat in a bag.” - 

They discussed the question in this way a long while; 
but finally, after the caliph saw that his vizier preferred 
to remain a stork all the rest of his life rather than 
marry the princess, he made up his mind to fulfil the | 
condition himself. The owl was delighted. She 
informed them that they could by no possibility have 
come at a better time, for probably the magicians would 
meet that very night. 

She left the chamber with the storks, to lead them 
to the hall. They went for some distance along a 
dark passage, till at last a light shone upon them 


THE HISTORY OF CALIPH STORK. , 29 


through a half-ruined wall. When they reached this 
place, the owl directed them to keep profoundly silent. 
From the gap at which they had ensconced themselves, 
they could look from one end to the other of a vast hall. 
It was handsomely furnished, and ornamented on every 
side with lofty columns. Numerous colored lamps 
rivalled the light of day. In the middle of the apart- 
ment stood a round table, covered with many viands. 
Around the table was a circular sofa, on which 
were sitting eight men. In one of these our storks 
recognized the pedler who had sold them the magic 
powder. His next neighbor inquired of him an account 
of his latest deeds, and, among others, he told the story 
of the caliph and his vizier. 


Vie 


‘* Waar was the word which you gave them?” asked 
another of the magicians. 

‘‘A very hard Latin word, Mutabor,’”’ replied the 
pedler. 

When the storks heard this, they were almost beside 
themselves with joy. They ran on their long legs so 
“quickly to the door of the ruined castle, that the owl 
could scarcely keep up with them. The caliph, over- 
whelmed with gratitude, said to her: ‘‘ Preserver of my 
friend’s and my own life, take me as your husband, in 
partial recompense for what you have done for us.” 
He then turned towards the east. Thrice the storks 
bent their long necks to the sun, just rising behind the 
hills. ‘‘ Mutabor!’’ they shouted, and in a twinkling 
they were restored to their former shapes. Master and 
servant, in the plenitude of their joy over the new gift 
of existence, lay weeping and laughing in each other’s 
arms. But who can describe their astonishment when 

3% 


380 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


they looked around? A beautiful lady, elegantly 
dressed, stood before them, and gave her hand to the 
caliph with a smile. ‘‘ Do you recognize your night-owl 
no longer?’”’ said she. It was she, indeed ; and the 
caliph was so enraptured by her beauty and amiability, 
that he declared that his becoming a stork was the 
greatest piece of luck that had ever befallen him. 

The three companions took up their course for Bag- 
dad. The caliph found in his girdle, not only the box 
of magic powder, but his purse of gold also. He 
bought, therefore, in the next village, what they needed 
for their journey, and they soon came to Bagdad’s 
gates. The appearance of the caliph excited there the 
greatest astonishment. The people had given him up 
for dead, and were of course highly delighted to have 
their beloved ruler among them again. 

All the more fiercely, therefore, burned their hatred 
for the impostor, Mizra. They rushed to the palace, and 
made prisoners of the old magician and his son. The 
caliph sent the old sinner to the same room in the 
ruined tower which the princess had occupied during 
her owl-hood, and there hung him. To the son, who 
knew nothing of his father’s arts, the caliph gave his 
choice, either to die or sniff. As he chose the latter, 
the grand vizier offered him the box. <A mighty snuff 
and the caliph’s magic word changed him to a stork. 
The caliph caused him to be enclosed in an iron cage, 
and hung him up in his garden. 

Caliph Chasid lived long and happily with his lady, 
the princess ; and the pleasantest hours of his life were 
those when the grand vizier visited him in the after- 
noon; for then they would talk over their storkish 
adventures ; and when the caliph felt particularly jovial 
and good-humored, he would even condescend to imitate 


THE HISTORY OF CALIPH STORK. 31 


- 


the grand vizier’s appearance when a stork. He would 
stalk solemnly, with stiffened legs, up and down the 
room, gabble, paddle his arms in the manner of wings, 
and show how they both turned towards the east and 
shouted, ‘‘ Mu—mu—7” to no purpose. This exhibi- 
tion always afforded the greatest pleasure to his princess 
and her children. When, however, the caliph gabbled, 
and bowed, and cried ‘‘Mu—mu—”’ too long, the 
vizier used to threaten ‘‘that he would communicate 
to his royal mistress what the caliph had said while 
standing outside the door of the Princess Night-owl’s 
room in the ruin.’ 





When Selim Baruch had ended his story the five 
merchants gave audible utterance to their delight. 
‘Upon my word, the afternoon has gone without our 
knowing it!’’? said one of them, throwing back the 
cover of the tent. ‘‘ The evening wind blows cool now, 
and we can get over a good piece of our journey.”’ At 
this the friends rose, the tents were taken down, and 
the caravan moved on, in the same order in which it 
came on the scene the day before. 

They rode almost the whole night long, for the days 
were sultry, while the nights were refreshing and beau- 
tiful. Coming at last to a convenient resting-place, 
they pitched their tents, and betook themselves to re- 
pose. The merchants took as much care of the stranger 
as if he had been their most cherished friend and 
ally. One gave him a pillow, another coverings for his 
bed, a third, slaves; in short, he was as well looked 

after as if he had been at home. The heat of the day 
‘ soon drew on, when they all rose again, resolving unan- 
imously to wait in this spot for the arrival of evening. 
After dining together, they formed a narrow circle, and 


32 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the young merchant, turning to the eldest, said: ‘ Se- 
lim Baruch enabled us to pass a very agreeable after- 
noon yesterday; suppose, Achmed, you tell us some 
story, either out of your own long life, which must have 
abounded in curious adventures, or else some pretty 
fairy-tale.”’ 

Achmed made no response to this address for some 
time, as if hesitating whether to adopt the former or 
the latter course, or neither. At last, however, he thus 
began : 

‘My dear friends,— you have proved yourselves 
trusty companions on this tedious journey, and Selim, 
here, also deserves my confidence. I will therefore tell 
you something from my own experience, which I never 
narrate willingly, and which I have communicated to 
but very few persons.” 


THE STORY OF THE SPECTRAL SHIP. 


My father occupied a little shop in Balsora. He was 
neither very poor, nor very rich, and was one of those 
“ae who venture nothing, without great delibera- 

ion, for fear of losing the little they possess. He 
brought me up plainly and honestly, and it was not long 
before I was of considerable assistance to him. When 
I was eighteen years old, and just at the time when he 
had made his first really great speculation, he died, 
probably from anxiety at having entrusted so large a 
sum as a thousand gold-pieces to the treachery of the 
ocean. The result compelled me, not long after, to 
régard him as happy in his death; for a few weeks after- 
wards’the news came that the ship in which my father 





THE SPECTRE SHIP. 


THE STORY OF THE SPECTRAL SHIP. 33 


had ventured his goods, had gone to the bottom. But 
this misfortune could not break my youthful courage. 
I turned everything which my father had possessed 
into money, and set forth to try my fortune among 
strangers, accompanied by only one aged servant, who, 
from old associations, refused to separate himself from 
my destinies. 

We embarked at Balsora, with favorable winds. The 
ship I had selected was bound for India. We had been 
sailing for fifteen days on the usual course, when the 
captain gave us notice of the approach of a tempest. 
He wore an air of great uneasiness, and confessed that, 
in this locality, he was not well enough acquainted 
with the true course to encounter a storm with indiffer- 
ence. He took in all the sails, and we ploughed along 
very slowly. The night had come on, clear and cold, 
and the captain was already beginning to think that he 
had been deceived in his anticipations, when suddenly 
a ship, which we had not seen till now, came on close 
by us with great speed. Wild shouts and frantic rev- 
elry sounded from her deck. The captain at my side 
was as pale as a ghost. ‘‘ My ship is lost! ”’ he cried ; 
‘‘for there sails Death! ’’ Before I had time to inquire 
the meaning of his strange exclamation, the ship’s 
crew rushed up, shrieking and howling. ‘‘ Did you see 
him ?”’ they shouted. ‘Our end has come at last! ”’ 

The captain ordered passages from the Koran to be 
read aloud, and took the helm himself. In vain; the 
storm visibly increased, and, before an hour had passed, 
the ship began to settle in the waves. The boats were 
hoisted out, and scarcely had the last man time to quit 
the wreck, when the vessel sunk before our eyes, and I 
was floating beggared on the open sea. But our suffer- 
ings were not yet over. The tempest raged with 


34 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


increasing fury, and the boat soon became unmanage- 
able. I flung my arms round my old servant, and we 
promised never to leave one another. Day broke at 
last. But just as the earliest rays of morning shone in 
the east, the wind caught our boat, and we were over- 
turned. I have never seen any of the ship’s company 
since. The shock stunned me; and, when I awoke, I 
found myself in the arms of my old, faithful servant, 
who had saved himself on the overturned boat, and 
had drawn me up after him. The storm had subsided. 
Nothing was to be seen of our ship ; but we discovered 
not far from us another vessel, towards which we were 
being driven by the waves. As we came nearer, I rec- 
ognized the same ship which had rushed by us the 
previous night, and which had filled our captain with 
such intense terror. I felt a strange horror at its sight. 
The captain’s exclamation of foreboding, so fearfully 
verified ; the decayed look of the ship itself, on which, 
near as we were, and loud as we shouted, no living 
thing was to be seen, terrified me. But it was our only 
means of rescue, and we glorified the Prophet, who had 
watched so wonderfully over our safety. 

A long rope hung from the bow of the vessel. We 
guided our boat towards it with hands and feet, to 
bring it within reach, and at last succeeded. But, 
although I exerted my voice to its utmost pitch, every- 
thing remained profoundly silent aboard the ship. At 
length we resolved to climb on board,—I, as the younger, 
going first. But, O horror! what a sight met my eye 
when I stepped upon the deck! The floor was red 
with blood, and twenty or thirty corpses, in Turkish 
clothes, lay extended on the planks, while at the main- 
mast stood a man, richly dressed, and with a sabre in 
his hand; his face pale and distorted, and through his 


THE STORY OF THE SPECTRAL SHIP. 35 


temples went along nail, fastening him to the mast. 
He was stone dead. Such was my horror that I 
scarcely dared to breathe. Meanwhile my old servant 
had succeeded in following me. He, too, stood aghast 
at the sight of the deck, peopled solely by so many 
frightful corpses. We ventured at last, after calming 
somewhat the anguish of our souls by prayers to the 
Prophet, to advance further into the ship. At every 
step we looked for some fresh and more dreadful horror 
to present itself to our gaze. But there was no further 
change ; far and wide, no living creatures but ourselves, 
and the restless sea. We dared not speak above our 
breaths, Jest the dead and transfixed master should turn 
his staring eyes upon us, or one of the dead bodies lift 
its ghastly head. At length we came to the stairs lead- 
ing to the cabin. We halted involuntarily, and looked 
long at each other in silence, neither of us daring to 
express his thoughts aloud. 

‘QO, master!”’ at length said my old servant, ‘“‘some 
horrible deed has been committed here. But should 
’ the ship below be filled with murderers, I would 
rather throw myself at once on their mercy, than re- 
main a moment longer among these frigh: ‘a! dead!” 
I shared his feelings, and, plucking up a little courage, 
we descended to the cabin. Here, too, all was silent, 
and our footsteps on the stairs were the only sounds we 
heard. We halted at the cabin door. I held my breath 
and listened; but no murmur came to our ears. I 
opened it. The room was in the greatest disorder. 
Clothes, weapons and other articles, lay scattered con- 
fusedly about. Nothing was inits place. The crew, or 
perhaps the captain, had been carousing, to judge from 
appearances, only a short time before the massacre. 
We went on, from room to room, and everywhere we 


36 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


found scattered about vast stores of silks, pearls, sugars 
and other valuable goods. I was beside myself with 
joy at all this; for, as there was no one on board to 
claim them, I thought I might fairly appropriate them 
to myself; but Ibrahim called to my remembrance that 
we were still far from land, and that without assistance 
from others we must despair of reaching it. 

We refreshed ourselves somewhat with the food and 
wine, which we found at hand in great abundance, and 
at length reiiscended to the deck. But here our flesh 
crawled at the frightful appearance of the dead men, 
and we resolved to throw them overboard, and relieve 
ourselves of their presence. But imagine our sensa- 
tions when we found that not one of them could be 
lifted from his position! They adhered so firmly to the 
deck that we should have been obliged to tear up the 
planking to remove them, and instruments to do this 
were not at hand. Our attempts to release the captain 
from the mast were equally unsuccessful ; nor could we 
even take away the sabre from his stark and rigid hand. 
We spent the day in unhappy reflections over our situ- — 
ation, and on the approach of night I permitted Ibrahim 
to lie down to get some sleep; I myself remaining 
awake on deck, to keep a look-out for means of escape 
or rescue. But when the moon rose, and I had judged 
by the stars that it was about eleven o’clock, such an 
irresistible torpor overpowered me, that I fell involun- 
tarily to the deck behind a cask which was standing 
near. Still my condition more nearly resembled a stu- 
pefaction than a sleep, for I could plainly hear the sea 
beating against the sides of the vessel, and the sails 
creaking and groaning in the wind. Suddenly I thought 
I heard voices and men’s footsteps on the deck. I tried 
to raise myself to look, but an invisible power held me 


THE STORY OF THE SPECTRAL SHIP. 37 


motionless, and I could not move my eyes. Yet the 
voices came constantly plainer to my ears; and it 
seemed as if a jovial ship’s company were hurrying to 
and fro about the deck. Now and then, too, I thought 
I heard a master’s powerful voice, and the sound of 
ropes and sails drawn noisily up and down. Gradually, 
however, my senses left me, and I fell into a profound 
sleep, during which I thought I could hear the clash 
of arms; and I did not wake till the sun stood high in 
heaven, and was painfully burning my face. I looked 
about, confused and bewildered; the storm, the ship, 
the dead men, and the occurrences of the past night, 
coming before me like a dream. But, when I looked 
up, everything remained as it had been the previous 
day. Unmoved lay the bodies; the captain stood 
immovably at the mainmast. I laughed at my dream, 
and rose to seek my old servant. 

I found him sitting sadly in the cabin. ‘0, mas- 
ter !’’ he exclaimed as I entered, ‘‘ I would rather lie at 
the bottom of the ocean than spend another night on 
board this ship.”’ 

I inquired the cause of his distress, and he answered : 
‘* After sleeping some hours, I awoke, hearing people 
running up and down over my head. I thought at first 
it was you pacing the deck ; but instantly perceived my 
mistake, for there were twenty or thirty moving over 
my head, and orders shouted in a stentorian voice struck 
hideously on myear. At last heavy footsteps descended 
the stairs. I knew nothing further for some time ; but, 
consciousness at length returning for a few moments, I 
saw the man who is nailed to the mast overhead sitting 
at this table, drinking and carousing, and him whose 
body, dressed in a suit of crimson, lies nearest to the 
captain, sitting here also, and sharing in his revels.”’ 


4 
85042 


38 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


You may easily imagine, my friends, the effect this 
statement had on me. It had been, then, no vision of 
an excited fancy which had disturbed my slumbers, but 
a stern and terrible reality. 

Meanwhile Ibrahim had been deep in thought. ‘I 
have it!’ he exclaimed, at length. A stanza had 
occurred to his memory, which had been taught him by 
his grandfather, and which was of potent efficacy in 
exorcising apparitions; and he hoped by its aid, and 
by fervent prayers from the Koran, to keep away during 
the coming night the torpor which had overpowered 
our senses the evening before. 

The old man’s suggestion pleased me ; and we waited 
in gloomy expectation the approach of night. There 
was a little apartment, opening out of the cabin, in 
which we resolved to take refuge. We bored several 
holes in the door, large enough to enable us to overlook 
the whole cabin, and then fastened the door on the 
inside as well as we could, while Ibrahim wrote the 
name of the Prophet in the four corners. Thus pre- 
pared, we waited for the horrors of the coming night. 

About eleven o’clock a strong inclination to sleep 
came over me; but my companion begged me to recite 
prayers from the Koran, and I did so, with marked 
effect. All at once everything over our heads became 
replete with life: the ropes creaked, steps moved up 
and down on deck, and several voices could be plainly 
heard. We sat several minutes in intense anxiety, when 
we heard some one descending the cabin stairs. Hear- 
ing this, my old servant commenced reciting the verse 
which his grandfather had given him as a protection 
against magic : 

** Be ye spirits of upper air, 
Or haunt ye the depths of the sea? 


THE STORY OF THE SPECTRAL SHIP. 39 


In loathsome tombs do ye have your lair, 
Or come ye from fire to me? 

Remember Allah, your God and Lord ; 
All wand’ring souls obey his word.’’ 


I am free to confess I felt little confidence in this 
stanza; and, when the door opened, my hair stood on 
end. The same tall, handsome man, whom I had seen 
nailed to the mainmast, entered the cabin. The nail 
still pierced his forehead, but he had returned his sword 
to its sheath; and behind him came another man, less 
richly clad than his leader, whom I had also seen lying 
dead on deck. The captain, for such he undoubtedly 
was, had a livid face, a large black beard, and a pair 
of fierce, rolling eyes, with which he searched every 
corner of the cabin. I saw him with great distinctness 
as he passed our little chamber ; but he seemed to take 
no notice of the door behind which we were concealed. 
Both took their seats at the table in the middle of the 
cabin, and conversed with each other in loud, harsh 
tones, and in an unknown tongue. Their voices grew 
louder and harsher, until at last the captain brought 
down his clenched fist on the table with such force that 
the whole room shook. The other sprang up, with a 
wild burst of laughter, and signed to the captain to 
follow him. The latter rose from his seat, tore his 
sabre from its sheath, and both left the apartment. 

We breathed more freely after they had left us; but 
our terror was far from being at an end. The uproar 
on deck grew louder and louder. We could hear them 
running rapidly to and fro overhead, shouting, laughing, 
and yelling. At last a hellish noise was heard, mingled 
with yells and the clash of arms; then came a sudden 
silence. 

When we ventured to return to the deck, many hours 


40 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


after, we found everything as we had left it the day 
before. Not one of the bodies had changed its posture, 
and all were as stiff as if carved in wood. 

Thus passed many days on the ship. We drove con- 
stantly towards the east, where, according to my reck- 
oning, land was surely to be reached at last. But 
though by day we traversed many miles, we seemed to 
return to our previous position during the night, for we 
found ourselves, when the sun rose, invariably in the 
same place. We could not explain this, otherwise than 
by supposing that the dead men steered their ship back 
every night with the trade wind. To prevent this we 
took in all the sails before night, and secured them by 
the same means we had employed with the cabin door: 
we wrote the name of the Prophet on parchment, to- 
gether with the above-mentioned stanza, and fastened 
the talismans to the lowered sails. We waited in our 
-state-room for the result, in intense anxiety. That 
night, magic seemed to be working with increased fury ; 
but, O, joy! the next morning the sails were still furled 
as we had left them the evening before. Henceforth, 
we spread during the day only so much sail as was 
needed to urge the ship moderately forward; and in 
this way in five days we advanced a considerable dis- 
tance on our voyage. 

At length, on the sixth day, we discovered land in 
the horizon, and gave thanks to Allah and his Prophet 
for our wonderful preservation. All this day and the 
following night we drove onward towards the coast, 
and on the seventh morning thought we discovered a 
city at no great distance. With great difficulty we 
hove‘over an anchor into the sea, and launching a small 
boat, which stood on the deck, rowed with all our 
strength towards the city. In half an hour we ran. 


THE STORY OF THE SPECTRAL SHIP. 41 


into the mouth of a stream which discharged into the 
ocean, and landed on the shore. Proceeding on foot to 
the city, we inquired its name at the gates, and learned 
that it was an Indian city, at no great distance from my 
original place of destination. We took lodgings at a 
caravansary ; and, after refreshing our strength, which 
had been exhausted by our perilous voyage, I made 
inquiries for a man of wisdom and learning, giving our 
landlord to understand that I should prefer one some- 
what acquainted with magic. He took me to a retired 
street, and knocked at an obscure house, giving me 
directions to inquire for Muley. 

As I entered, an old, diminutive man, with a gray 
beard and a long nose, came towards me, and demanded 
my business. On my replying that I was in search of 


Muley the Wise, he told me it was himself. I asked.» 


oz) 


bodies, and what measures I should adopt to get them 
out of the ship. He replied, that the people in the 
vessel had probably been bewitched because of some 
great crime perpetrated on the sea. He thought this 
witchcraft could be exorcised if they could, be brought 
on shore; but that this was impossible, unless the 
planks on which they lay were taken up; that by all 
the laws of God and justice, the ship and all she con- 
tained belonged to me, but that I must keep pro- 
foundly silent in regard to it; and, if I would present 
to him a small portion of my surplus wealth, that he 
would bring his own slaves to help me in disposing of 
the bodies. I promised to reward him handsomely ; 
and we set out for the ship, with five slaves, provided 
with saws and hatchets. While on our way, the magi- 
cian could not sufficiently compliment the wisdom of our 
wlan of guarding the sails with quotations from the 
4* 


. 


-y 


him for advice as to what I should do with the dead 


42 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


Koran. He declared that this was the sole means by 
which we could have been saved. 

It was still early in the morning when we reached 
the ship. We went zealously to work, and in an hour’s 
time had placed four of the bodies in the skiff. Some 
of the slaves were ordered to row them ashore and bury 
them. They declared, when they came back, that the 
dead men had saved them the trouble of burial, for no 
sooner had they been laid on the ground than they had 
crumbled into dust. We continued to remove the 
corpses, and before evening every one of them had 
been carried to the land. No one was left but the man 
whom we had found nailed to the mainmast. We tried 
in vain to draw out the nail. No exercise of strength 
seemed to start it a hair’s breadth. I was at a loss 
what to do next; for it was out of the question to cut 
down the mast in order to take him ashore. But Muley 
helped us out of this embarrassment. He directed a 
slave to row quickly to the shore, and bring away a 
basket of earth. When this had been done the magi- 
cian uttered some mysterious words, and sprinkled the 
earth on the dead man’s head. The latter instantly 
opened his eyes, drew a deep breath, and the wound 
made by the nail in his brow began to bleed. We now 
drew the spike out without difficulty, and the body fell 
into the arms of one of our slaves. 

‘“Who has brought me here?’ he asked. Muley 
pointed to me, and I stepped closer. ‘Thanks, un- 
known stranger,’’ said he. ‘‘ You have released me 
from long torments. For fifteen years my body has 
been sailing on these waters, and my soul been con- 
demned to revisit it at night. But now earth has rested 
on my head, and I can go to my fathers, forgiven.”’ 


THE STORY OF THE SPECTRAL SHIP. 43 


I begged him to let us know how he had merited this 
fearful punishment, and he went on: 

“Fifteen years ago I was a powerful and distinguished 
man, and lived in Algiers. A thirst for gain induced 
me to fit out a ship and take to piracy. I had practised 
this mode of life for some time, when one day I took on 
board at Zante a dervish, who wished to travel free of 
expense. I and my crew were fierce people, and paid 
no regard to the sanctity of our passenger, but, on the 
contrary, made him the object of our ridicule. But on 
one occasion, when, in his holy zeal, he had rebuked 
my sinful course of life, my anger, which was more 
easily excited as I had been drinking deeply, obtained 
complete mastery over me. Furious at hearing from a 
dervish what I would not have endured tamely from the 
sultan himself, I plunged my dagger in his heart. With 
his dying breath he cursed my crew and me, condemn- 
ing us to an existence of neither life nor death till we 
had laid our heads upon the earth. The dervish died, 
and we threw him into the sea, laughing at his impre- 
cations ; but that very night his sentence was fulfilled, 
A part of my crew mutinied. We fought with dread- 
ful fury till my adherents were all slain, and I nailed to 
the mast. But the mutineers also perished of their 
wounds, and soon my ship was merely one vast grave. 
My sight left me, my breath failed, and I awaited death. 
But it was only a torpor which had overpowered me. 
On the next night, at the same hour in which we had 
thrown the dervish into the sea, I and all my crew 
awoke to life; existence had returned to us again, but 
we could do nothing, say nothing, but what we had 
said and done that dreadful night. Thus we have 
sailed for fifteen years, unable to live, unable to die. 
We have spread every sail to the tempest with frantic 


= 


44 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


joy, hoping to be dashed at last upon some friendly 
cliff, and lay our weary heads at rest on the bottom of 
the ocean. It was denied to us. But now I can die. 
Once more, my unknown savior, I thank you; and, if 
you value treasures, take my ship and its contents in 
token of my gratitude.” 

The captain let his head fall upon his breast, and, 
like his companions in suffering, crumbled into dust. 
We collected his ashes in a box, and buried them on the 
beach ; and I obtained workmen from the city, who soon 
put my vessel in repair. After I had bartered away, at 
‘a great profit, the goods which I found on board, I 
- hired seamen, remunerated richly my friend Muley, and 
sailed for my native country. I took a circuitous route, 
visiting many countries and islands, and disposing of 
my goods. The Prophet blessed my undertaking. At 
the end of nine months I returned to Balsora twice as 
rich as the dying captain’s bequest had made me. My 
fellow-citizens were surprised at my wealth and good 
fortune, and would not believe but that I had found the 
Valley of Diamonds of the famous voyager, Sindbad. I 
left them to their belief; and my example tempted all 
the youths of Balsora to go out into the world, in order, 
like me, to make their fortunes. 

I lived calmly and at peace, and have made, every 
five years since then, a journey to Mecca, that I might 
thank God, in his holy place, for all his blessings, and 
pray for the captain and his crew, that He would 
receive them into Paradise. 





The caravan’s journey was continued the next day 
without interruption, and, when it halted, Selim the 
Stranger thus accosted Muley, the youngest of the mer- 
chants : 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 45 


‘You are, we know, the youngest of us all, but you 
are always in gay spirits, and surely have in your mem- 
ory some lively tale for our amusement. Pray, serve it 
up, to refresh us after the heat of the day.” 

‘‘T should be most happy,’’ said Muley in reply, ‘‘ to 
tell you anything to afford you entertainment; but 
modesty is becoming to the young; my older fellow- 
travellers here must take precedence. Why should not 
Zaleukos, now, always so grave and reserved, disclose 
to us what has made his life so gloomy? Perhaps we 
could alleviate his sorrows. To a brother, though he be 
of a different faith, we should be always ready to do a 
service.” 

The traveller referred to was a Greek merchant, of 
middle age, handsome and vigorous, but of unchanging 
gravity. Though an unbeliever in the Prophet, his 
companions were warmly attached to him; for his 
demeanor had inspired them with entire respect and 
confidence. He had lost one hand, and his fellow-trav- 
ellers suspected that this was the occasion of his deep 
and unvarying melancholy. 

Zaleukos, in reply to Muley’s suggestion, answered : 
“‘T am very grateful for your sympathy ; sorrows I have 
none, at least none of which you, with the best inten- 
tions, could lighten the burthen. Still, as Muley 
accuses me of being melancholy, I will narrate to you 
an event which will go far towards justifying me. You 
see that I have lost my left hand. Itis not a natural 
defect, but was lost at a period the most horrible of my 
life. Whether I am wrong to be, since then, more 
grave than my condition seems to authorize, you shall 
judge when you have heard The Story of the Severed 
Hand.”’ 


46 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 


I was born in Constantinople. My father was a 
dragoman of the Sublime Porte, and drove a lucrative 
trade in costly essences and silks. He gave me a good 
education; in part instructing me himself, partly 
employing one of our priests for my tuition. He 
‘intended at first that I should succeed him in his busi- 
ness, but, finding that I showed more capacity than he 
had expected, he resolved, with the advice of friends, 
to educate me to the practice of medicine ; since a phy- 
sician, if he has but very little more knowledge than a 
quack, can make his fortune in Constantinople. Our 
house was much resorted to by Franks, and one of 
them advised my father to send me to Paris, where 
such studies could be followed at little expense and to 
the best advantage. He offered to take me with him, 
free of cost, on his return to that city. My father, who 
had travelled much in his youth, accepted the offer, and 
the Frank informed me I must be prepared to start in 
three months. I was beside myself with delight at the 
expectation of seeing foreign lands, and could scarcely 
wait for the time when we were to embark. The 
Frank at last transacted all his affairs, and prepared for 
the journey ; and, the evening before the day fixed for 
our departure, my father called me into his bed- 
chamber. Beautiful arms and clothes were lying on 
the table; but what principally drew my attention was 
a large heap of gold, having never seen in my life so 
much money together before. My father embraced me 
and said: ‘‘ You see, my son, I have provided you 
clothes for your journey. These arms are yours also; 
they are the same which your grandfather gave me 


; AWN \ 
LIM 


SS 
——; 








SEVERED HAND. 





THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 47 


when I set out for foreign lands. I know you are skil- 
ful in their use; but never use your skill unless 
attacked ; then strike, and strike boldly. My property 
is not large, but what I have I have divided into three 
parts. One is for you, another for my own wants, and 
the third shall be a sacred fund to serve you in your 
hour of need.”’? So spoke my father, tears flowing from 
his eyes, perhaps from a sad foreboding, for we never 
met again. 

Our journey was a prosperous one. We soon arrived 
in France, and six days’ further travel brought us to the 
vast city of Paris. Here my friend hired me a cham- 
ber, advising me to make a prudent use of my 
money, which amounted in the whole to about two 
thousand ducats. I lived three years in Paris, and 
learned much of what a skilful physician requires to 
know. I should be deceiving you, however, if I 
described my residence in Paris as a willing one, for 
the customs of the people gave me great displeasure ; 
moreover, I had but very few friends, though those I 
had were all young men of noble character and distin- 
guished talents. 

Home-sickness at last conquered me; and as, during 
my whole absence, I had heard not a word from my 
father, I availed myself of a favorable opportunity and 
returned to my native land. 

This opportunity was an embassy which was just 
leaving France for the court of the Sublime Porte. I 
enrolled myself as surgeon in the suite of the ambassa- 
dor, and reached Stamboul without accident. I found 
my father’s house closed, and the neighbors, filled with 
surprise at my sudden arrival, told me that he had been 
dead two months. The priest who had been my tutor 
in my youth brought me the key, and, lonely and friend- 


48 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


less, I took possession of the empty residence. I found 
everything as my father had left it; but the gold which 
he had promised to bequeath me was missing. I asked 
the priest concerning it, and he answered with a low 
bow: ‘ Your father died a religious man, and made 
over his property to the church.” This was incredi- 
ble; yet what could Ido? I had no evidence to bring 
against the priest, and my only course was to be 
grateful that he had not appropriated the house and 
goods as well. 

This’ was the first misfortune which befell me. 
But henceforth the blows of fate followed in rapid suc- 
cession. My profession was far from lucrative, partly 
because I felt ashamed to adopt the habits of the 
quacks, but principally because I could no longer look 
to my father’s. recommendation, which, had he lived, 
would have introduced me to the patronage of the 
rich and the great, who now had no thoughts to spare 
for the humble Zaleukos. In addition to these misfor- 
tunes, my father’s stock of goods found no purchasers, 
for his former customers had gone elsewhere after his 
death, and new ones were not easily obtained. On one 
occasion, while I was sitting thinking sadly of my con- 
dition, the thought struck me that I had frequently seen 
people of my nation in France, who travelled through 
the country exposing their goods for sale in the market- 
places of the different towns. I recollected that their 
foreign aspect and origin readily found them customers, 
and that it was not at all uncommon in this business 
to increase one’s means a hundred-fold. My resolution 
was taken. I sold my father’s house; gave a part of 
the purchase money to be taken care of for me by a 
tried friend ; purchased with the remainder a variety of 
articles, which were rarities in France, such as shawls, 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 49 


silk stuffs, salves, and fine oils; secured my passage in 
a vessel, and entered on my second journey to France. 
It seemed, as soon as I had left behind the gates of 
the Dardanelles, as if fortune had again become favor- 
able. Our voyage was short and prosperous. I vis- 
ited in succession all the large cities and towns of 
the country, and found everywhere ready purchasers 
of my goods. My friend in Stamboul kept me con- 
stantly supplied with new articles, and I grew richer 
day by day. At length, when I had accumulated so 
much that I believed I might safely venture on a wider 
field, I travelled with my wares into Italy. I have 
omitted to mention, what was a considerable source of 
profit to me, that I also brought my medical knowledge 
into frequent play. Wherever I went, I caused it to 
be announced by posters that a celebrated Greek phy- 
sician, who had effected many remarkable cures, had 
arrived in the city; and my balsams and medicines 
brought many ducats to my pocket. In the course of 
my wanderings I arrived at last at the Italian city of 
Florence. I resolved to remain longer than usual in this 
city, partly because its beauty greatly pleased me, and 
partly because I wished to recover from the fatigues of 
my travels. I hired a shop in the quarter Santa Croce, 
together with a couple of handsome apartments, at no 
great distance, opening upon a balcony, and immedi- 
ately distributed my posters, describing me as a phy- 
sician and merchant. I had scarcely opened my shop 
when a stream of customers began to flow in; and, 
although my prices were high, I sold more than other 
merchants, because my manners towards’ my patrons 
were pleasant and courteous. I had been living in 
Florence with great contentment four days, when one 
evening, after I had closed my shop, and was as usual 
5 


50 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


counting over the stock remaining in my cases, I found, 
in one of the empty boxes, a little note, which I could 
not remember having placed there. I opened it, and 
found that it was a request for me to go, that night, 
at exactly twelve o’clock, to the bridge called Ponte 
Vecchio. I pondered a long time over it, trying to 
imagine who my anonymous correspondent could be; 
but, as I knew not a soul in Florence, I came at length 
to the opinion that it must be from some one desirous to 
procure, secretly, my services for some sick man, —a 
thing which happened not unfrequently. I determined 
to go, but for greater security armed myself with the 
sabre which my father had given me some time before. 

Towards midnight I set out on my expedition, and 
came soon to the Ponte Vecchio. I found the bridge 
empty and deserted, and resolved to wait till he who 
had requested my presence made his appearance. The 
night was cold; the moon shone brightly, and I stood 
gazing down on the waters of the Arno, which glistened 
sweetly in the moonlight. As the bells of the city 
sounded twelve, I raised my head, and a tall man was 
standing before me, concealed in a red cloak, and hold- 
ing one of its folds before his features. 

I was startled at first at the mysterious suddenness 
of his appearance ; but soon regained my presence of 
mind, and said to my unknown summoner: ‘‘ If I have 
been bidden here by you, tell me quickly what are your 
wishes.’”? The stranger turned, and slowly answered : 
“‘Follow!’’ It was far from being an agreeable idea, 
this going, completely unprotected, with a perfect 
stranger, and I replied, without moving from my posi- 
tion: ‘‘ Not so, my dear sir; you must first inform me 
whither; and I should prefer you would show me a 
little of your face, that I may see whether you mean to 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 51 


deal fairly by me.’’? The stranger seemed not to heed 
this latter request. ‘‘ You refuse, Zaleukos? Stay 
then!’’ and he retired. My anger was excited by 
this treatment. ‘‘ And do you think,’ I cried, ‘‘ that 
I am aman to be made a butt by every fool, and that 
I have been waiting on this bridge this bitter night to 
no purpose?” Overtaking him in three bounds, I 
seized him by his mantle, shouting at the top of my 
voice, and, at the same time, laying my other hand on 
my sabre ; but the mantle remained in my grasp, and its 
unknown wearer vanished round the neighboring cor- 
ner. My wrath doubled with every step; but I had 
possession of the cloak, and I was determined it should 
serve as my clue to this singular adventure. So, throw- 
ing it over my shoulders, I went in the direction of my 
house. I had scarcely advanced a hundred paces, 
when some one passed close by me, and whispered 
in my ear in the French language: ‘‘ Have a care, 
count; nothing can be done to-night.’”’ Before I could 
turn, the individual had passed on, and all I saw 
was a shadow gliding along the houses. That this 
warning was intended for the owner of the mantle, I 
saw clearly, but it threw no light on the mystery. 

The next morning I deliberated what todo. I thought 
at first I would cause the mantle to be cried, as if I had 
found it; but I reflected that, in that case, the Unknown 
could reclaim it through a third party, and I should 
obtain no explanation of the strange affair. While 
I was hesitating, I examined the mantle closer. It 
was made of heavy Genoa velvet, of a purple color, 
edged with Astrachan fur, and richly adorned with 
gold. The splendor of the cloak suggested an idea, 
which I resolved to carry out. I carried it to my shop, 
-and exhibited it as if for sale, setting so high a price 


*. i ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


upon it that I felt certain of not finding a purchaser. 
My purpose was to make a seaching examination of 
every one who made inquiries concerning the mantle ; 
for the figure and appearance of the Unknown, though 
I had caught only a momentary glimpse of them, I had 
clearly seen, and could have told among a thousand. 
The cloak found many admirers, — for its extraordinary 
beauty attracted all eyes, —but none of them resembled 
the Unknown, and none were willing to pay the high 
price of two hundred ducats for it. I thought it a 
striking circumstance, moreover, that, when I occasion- 
ally made inquiry of my customers whether there had 
ever been a mantle like it in Florence, every one 
answered in the negative, and assured me that they had 
never seen before so costly and magnificent a garment. 

At length, towards evening, a young man came into 
my shop, who had called frequently before, and had 
made me many offers for the mantle, and, throwing a 
purse of ducats on the counter, cried: ‘‘ By heaven, 
Zaleukos, I must have your mantle, if it beggars me!”’ 
—and he began at the same time to count out his gold 
’ pieces. I was much embarrassed; for I had merely 
exhibited the cloak to attract possibly the attention of 
my mysterious guide, and now came a young fool who 
was willing to pay the monstrous price I had set upon 
it. Yet what could I do? I submitted; for, on the 
other hand, it was no unpleasant reflection that I had 
been so well recompensed for my previous night’s 
adventure. The young man threw it over his shoulders, 
and turned to go; but he halted on the threshold, and, 
detaching a paper which had been fastened to the 
mantle, said, throwing it over to me: ‘‘ Zaleukos, here 
is something which does not belong to my cloak.” I 
took up the paper indifferently, when, to my astonish- 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. ~*~ 58 


ment, I saw written: ‘‘ Bring the mantle, this night, 
at the same hour, to the Ponte Vecchio, and four hun- 
dred ducats are yours.’”’ I stood thunder-struck. I 
had then not only thrown away my good fortune, 
but had wholly failed in my resolution to discover 
the owner. I did not long hesitate, but, gathering up 
the two hundred ducats, sprang after my purchaser, 
and cried: ‘‘Take your money back again, good 
friend, and give me my cloak; I cannot possibly 
part with it.”’ At first he took what I said for a 
joke; but, seeing I was in earnest, he fell into a passion, 
called me a fool, and we came at last to blows. I was 
fortunate enough to pull off the cloak in the scuffle, and 
was already making off with it, when the young 
man shouted for the police, and dragged me before 
the judge. The judge was greatly surprised at the 
accusation, and of course awarded the cloak to my 
opponent. I offered the young man twenty, thirty, 
fifty, eighty, a hundred ducats beyond his two hun- 
dred, if he would restore me the mantle. What my 
entreaties failed to effect, my gold accomplished. He 
accepted my good ducats and I departed with the 
mantle triumphant, contented to be thought a madman 
by all Florence. The opinion of the people was per- 
fectly immaterial to me; for I knew better than they 
how much I was a gainer by the transaction. 

I waited for night with impatience, and, at the 
same hour as on the previous evening, set out for 
the Ponte Vecchio, mantle under my arm. The figure 
came out of the darkness at the last toll of the bell, 
and came towards me. It was unmistakably the same 
man. ‘‘ Have you the mantle?” I was asked. ‘ Yes, 
my lord,’’ I replied ; ‘‘ but it cost me, in cash, a hundred 
ducats.’”’— ‘‘I know it,’”’ replied he; ‘‘see, here are 

5x 


64 ~ ARABIAN DAYS ENTERTAINMENTS, 


four hundred.’”?’ He stepped with me to the broad 
coping of the bridge, and told down the gold pieces, 
There were four hundred. They gleamed beautifully in 
the light of the moon, and filled my heart with joy. 
Ah, little did I imagine, that it was the last I should 
ever feel! I thrust the gold into my pocket, trying 
at the same time to take an accurate view of the gener- 
ous Unknown ; but he wore a mask, and his dark eyes 
gleamed fearfully through its openings. ‘‘I thank 
you, my lord, for your generosity,” said I. ‘‘ What 
would you have of me? But, first of all, I insist it 
must be nothing wrong.’’ — “‘ Your cauticn is unneces- 
sary,’ he answered, throwing the cloak over his 
shoulders. ‘‘I need your aid as a physician, — not for 
the living, but for the dead!” 

“How can that be?”’ I cried, full of astonishment. 

“‘I came with my sister from a distant country,’ — 
he answered, motioning me to follow him, — ‘“‘ and was 
living with her at the house of a friend of my family. 
She died yesterday, after a brief illness, and her rela- 
tions will bury her to-morrow. According to an old 
usage of our family, the bodies of its members must 
repose in the ancestral tomb. Many of us, who have 
died in foreign lands, have been interred in our own 
sepulchre by the aid of embalmment. So, in the present 
case, although I resign her body to the possession 
of her relations, 1 must carry to my father at least her 
head, that he may see his daughter once again.” 

This resolution of cutting off the head of a beloved 
sister struck me as something dreadful, but I ventured 
no objections, for fear of angering my benefactor. I told 
him, therefore, that I was familiar with the process of 
embalmment, and asked to be conducted to the dead 
person. But I could not refrain from inquiring, why 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 55 


all this must be done so mysteriously, and under the 
cover of night. He replied that his relations, who 
regarded his purpose as revolting, would interfere by 
day. Let the head be once removed, however, and 
he should value little their upbraidings. He could have 
brought the head to me himself, but a natural reluc- 
tance restrained him from performing the dismember- 
ment with his own hand. 

We had by this time reached a large, handsome 
house, which my guide told me was the termination 
of our midnight promenade. We passed the main 
entrance, and entering by a small door, which the 
Unknown closed carefully behind us, mounted a flight 
of winding stairs in total darkness. These led us to 
a dimly-lighted corridor, through which we passed to 
a chamber, lighted by a single lamp suspended from 
the ceiling. 

In this room stood a bed, in which lay the corpse. 
The Unknown turned away his face, and seemed to be 
striving to restrain his tears. He then pointed to the 
bed, and, ordering me to perform my duty skilfully 
and swiftly, left the chamber. 

I took out the knife, which, as a surgeon, I always 
carried about me, and approached the bed. Only the 
face of the corpse was visible; but this was of such 
extreme beauty, that I felt inspired with the deepest 
compassion. Her dark hair hung down in large masses 
on the pillow, her face was pale, her eyes closed. I 
first made an incision in the skin, such as physicians 
make at the amputation of a limb; then, taking my 
sharpest knife, with one effort divided the throat. But, 
O horror! the corpse instantly opened its eyes, closed 
them again, and seemed in one deep sigh for the first 
time to breathe away its life. A jet of warm blood at 


56 ‘ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the same time spouted from the wound. I felt con- 
vinced that I was the slayer of the unhappy creature. 
There could be no doubt that she was now dead, for 
there could be no recovery from the wound I had 
inflicted. I stood several minutes overpowered with 
regret for what had happened. Could the stranger 
have deceived me? or had it been a case of apparent 
death? The latter seemed more probable. I could 
not tell her brother that perhaps a less rapid incision 
would have recalled her to life; and I resolved, there- 
fore, to complete the operation. I proceeded to en- 
large the wound, preparatory to removing the head, 
when, suddenly, the dying girl gave another groan, 
and, with a convulsive movement of pain, gave up the 
ghost. I rushed from the chamber, completely un- 
manned by horror. The entry was dark; the lamp had 
gone out; no trace of my guide was to be seen; and I 
was compelled to trust to chance in finding the stairs 
by feeling along the wall. I found them at length, and, 
half-falling, half-gliding, plunged down. No one was 
below. I found the door on the latch, and breathed 
freer when I reached the street. Spurred on by terror, 
I ran furiously to my lodgings, and, burying myself in 
the pillows of my bed, strove to obliterate from my 
memory the horror I had been guilty of. But sleep 
refused to visit me, and morning at last warned me to 
collect my scattered senses. I thought it probable that 
the man would not denounce me, who had led me into 
the commission of this, as it now seemed to me, ac- 
cursed deed. I resolved, at last, to open my shop as 
usual, and assume, if possible, a calm demeanor. But, 
alas! a new circumstance, which I now noticed for 
the first time, added to my despair. My cap and girdle 
were missing, and I was uncertain whether | had left 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 57 


them in the chamber. of the dead girl, or lost them in 
my flight. The former supposition appeared the more 
probable ; and, in that case, I was certain to be discov- 
ered. 

I opened my shop at the usual hour. My neighbor 
came in, as he was in the habit of doing every morning, 
being a sociable, talkative man, and began: ‘‘ Well, 
what do you think of the dreadful affair which happened 
last night?’ I pretended not to understand. ‘‘ Why, 
have n’t you heard of what is the talk of the whole 
city? Haven’t you heard that the governor’s daugh- 
ter, Bianca, the loveliest flower of Florence, was mur- 
dered last night? Ah! I saw her only yesterday, 
walking so happily in the streets with her lover! The 
wedding was to have taken place to-day.’”’ Every word 
my neighbor said was a dagger in my heart; and my 
torture was constantly repeating itself; for each of my 
customers told me the same story, increasing its hor- 
rors with every recital, and yet no one could paint it so 
terribly as I myself had seen it. About noon an officer 
of justice entered my shop, and commanded me to turn 
out all present. ‘‘Signor Zaleukos,”’ said he, drawing 
out the articles I had lost, ‘‘do these belong to you?” 
I reflected whether I should deny them; but, seeing 
through the halfopened door my landlord and several 
acquaintances, who could testify directly against me, I 
thought it better not to make things worse by false- 
hood, and acknowledged that they were mine. The 
officer ordered me to follow, and took me to a huge 
building, which I soon saw was the prison. There he 
assigned me temporarily a room. 

Reflecting in solitude over my position, I saw that it 
was a fearful one. The thought that I was a murderer, 
though without intention, incessantly recurred to me. 


58 “ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


So, too, I could not conceal from myself that the glis- 
tening of the ducats had taken my judgment prisoner, 
for, otherwise, I should not have entered so blindly into 
this miserable tragedy. Two hours after my arrest I 
was taken out of my cell. We descended a flight of 
steps, and I found myself in a large hall, where twelve 
aged men sat round a long table covered with black. 
Seats were arranged round the sides of the room, which 
were filled with the nobility of Florence, and a dense 
throng of spectators occupied the galleries. When I 
had been placed before the black table, a man of gloomy 
and unhappy aspect rose from his seat. It was the 
governor. He announced to the assembled audience, 
that, being the father of the victim, he could not hon- 
orably act as judge in this investigation, and that he 
resigned his seat for this occasion to the oldest of the 
senators. This latter personage was a hoary-headed 
man, of at least ninety years of age. His form was 
bent, and his temples were hung with thin white hair ; 
but his eyes still burned brightly, and his voice was 
strong and full. He began by asking me if I confessed 
the murder. I begged a hearing, and then stated, 
without fear and in a distinct voice, what I had done 
‘and what I knew. I noticed that the governor, during 
my recital, grew alternately pale and red ; and, when I 
ended, he broke out furiously: ‘‘ How, villain! You 
throw upon another the crime which you committed 
solely from avarice!’’ The senator rebuked his inter- 
ruption as improper, since he had voluntarily resigned 
his right to interpose, and especially since it was not 
shown that I had committed the crime from avarice, 
as, by his own testimony, nothing had been stolen 
from the body. Nay, he went further. He declared to 
the governor that he must detail the incidents of his 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 59 


daughter’s latter years ; for in that way alone could it 
be determined whether I had spoken truth or falsehood. 
He then adjourned the court for the day, to form his 
opinion, as he said, from the papers of the deceased, 
which the governor must surrender to him. I was 
again transferred to my cell, where I passed a misera- 
ble day, tormented with the burning hope that some 
connection might yet be discovered between the de- 
ceased and the man with the red mantle. The next 
day, when I entered the hall of justice, several letters 
were lying on the table. The old senator demanded of | 
me if they were in my hand-writing. I looked at them, 
and saw at once that they were from the same hand as 
the two notes received by me. I pointed this out to 
the senator, but he seemed to regard it as of little im- 
portance, and answered that I could, and, indeed, must 
have written all myself, for the signature at the bottom 
of the letters was unmistakably a ‘‘ Z,” the initial let- 
ter of my name. The letters contained threats against 
the deceased, mingled with warnings against the mar- 
riage which she was about to consummate. 

The governor seemed to have been making some 
extraordinary statements with regard to my character. 
For the whole of this day I was treated with far greater 
suspicion and severity. I referred, for my justification, 
to my papers, to be found at my lodgings; but I was 
told that search had been already made there, and that 
nothing had been found. At the close of this investi- 
gation, every hope had vanished; and, when I was 
brought into the hall of justice on the third day, the 
sentence was read to me that I was convicted of delib- 
erate murder, and condemned to death. It had come to 
this! Deprived of all which made my life yet dear to 
me, | was about to die a felon’s death, far from my 


60 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


native land and in the prime of life, at the hand of the 
executioner ! 

On the evening of the day which had decided my 
fate I was sitting sadly in my cell, my hopes fled, my 
thoughts earnestly directed upon death, when the door 
of my prison opened, and a man entered, who looked at 
me a long time in silence. ‘‘ Dol find you again, and 
in this condition, Zaleukos!’’ he said at length. I had 
not recognized him by the dim light of my lamp, but 
the tones of his voice awoke old recollections in my 
heart. It was Valetty, one of the few friends whom I 
had known in Paris. He said he had come by chance 
to Florence, where his father, a man of distinction, 


' resided; that he had heard my history, and had come 


to pay me a final visit, to learn from my own lips my 
motive for so hideous acrime. I told him the whole 
story. He appeared much astonished, and adjured me 
to divulge all to him, my only friend, and not add false- 
hood to my other crimes, when on the very eve of 
death. I answered, with the most solemn protestations, 
that I had spoken only truth, and that I was guilty of 
no other sin than, blinded by the gleam of gold, of not 
detecting at once the improbability of the statement of 
the Unknown. ‘‘ You did not know Bianca, then?” he 
asked. I assured him I had never seen her. Valetty 
now told me that there was a deep mystery in the fact 
that the governor had so hastily insisted on my con- 
demnation, and that a report was now prevalent among 
the people that I had known Bianca a long time, and 
had murdered her out of rage at her marriage with 
another. I pointed out that all this applied to the man 
with the red mantle; but that I had no means whatso- 
ever of proving his complicity in the affair. Valetty 
embraced me in tears, and promised to do all in his 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 61 


power to save at least my life. I felt but feeble hopes; 
but I knew him to be an able man, and learned in the 
law, and that he would make every effort to save me 
within his reach. I remained in uncertainty two long 
days, but Valetty appeared at last. ‘‘I bring you good 
news,’’ said he, ‘‘though slight. Your life is spared, 
and you will be released; but you must lose your 
hand.”’ I thanked him with the deepest emotion. He 
told me ‘‘ that the governor had been at first inexorable 
in refusing to permit the matter to be further investi- 
gated; but, to avoid the appearance of injustice, he had - 
at last consented that, if a similar case could be found 
in the Florentine histories, my punishment should be | 
regulated by the sentence there pronounced ; that he 
and his father had searched day and night through the 
ancient records, and had found at last a case precisely 
parallel. Thus ran the sentence: ‘ His left hand shall 
be hewn off, his property confiscated, and himself con- 
demned to perpetual banishment ;’ that such was now 
my sentence, and I must prepare myself for the torture 
which awaited me.’’ I will not, my friends, describe 
that fearful day when I laid my hand on the block in 
the open market-place, and my own blood spouted over 
me in arching jets. 

Valetty took me to his own house till I was healed, 
and then furnished me generously with means for my 
journey ; for everything which I had accumulated with 
so much toil had become the property of the state. I 
journeyed from Florence to Sicily, and thence in the 
first ship I could find to Constantinople. There my 
only support was the sum which I had entrusted to 
my friend, and I begged him to give me a refuge in his 
house. . What was my astonishment, when he inquired 
why I did not take possession of my own? He told 

6 


62 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


me that a stranger had lately bought a house in the 
Greek quarter, in my name, and had told the neighbors 
I should soon return. I went there immediately with 
my friend, and was kindly welcomed by all my old 
acquaintances. An aged merchant gave me a letter, 
which the man, who had made the purchase, had left 
with him for me. I read: ‘‘ Zaleukos! two hands are 
ready to labor ceaselessly that you may never feel the 
loss of one. This house, and everything therein, is 
yours. Every year will be given to you such a sum as 


‘shall rank you among the richest of your people. Par- 


don one who is more unfortunate than yourself.’”’ I 
could guess the writer; and the merchant told me that 


-.it was a man whom he took to be a Frenchman, and 
_ that he wore a crimson mantle. I had seen enough to 


be convinced that the Unknown was still possessed of 
many noble impulses. I found all the arrangements 
of my new house of the best description; and it con- 
tained a shop filled with goods better than those I had 
lost. Ten years have passed since then. More from 
the force of habit than from need I continue to engage 
in business ; but that land where 1 met such misfortune I 
have never seen again. I receive every year, from an 
unknown source, a thousand pieces of gold ; but, though 
it gives me pleasure to learn thereby the nobility of that 
unhappy sufferer, still he cannot buy from me the an- 
guish of my soul, for the fearful picture of the murdered 
Bianca lives eternally in my memory. 


Zaleukos had ended his narrative. The others had 
listened to him with great sympathy; and the stranger, 
especially, appeared to be deeply interested and im- 
pressed. He had sighed deeply several times, and 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 63 


seemed to Muley to have been shedding tears. They 
conversed a considerable time on the subject of the 
story. 

‘‘And do you not hate the unknown wretch who 
caused you so basely to lose a noble member of your 
body, nay, brought your very life in danger? ”’ 

‘‘There have been hours, in times gone by,” an- 
swered the Greek, ‘‘ when my heart has cursed him 
before God, for bringing me this misery, and poisoning 
the happiness of my life. But I found consolation in 
the religion of my father, which commands me to love 
my enemies. Besides, he is more unfortunate than I.” 

‘You are a noble being,”’ cried the stranger, pressing 
the Greek’s hand warmly. 

The captain of the guard interrupted them at this 
point. Stepping, with an anxious air, into the tent, 
he announced that no one must sleep that day, as they 
were now at the place where caravans were frequently 
attacked; and his soldiers believed they had already 
seen horsemen in the horizon. 

The merchants were much disconcerted at this infor- 
mation. Selim, the stranger, expressed surprise at 
their confusion, and suggested that, with so strong an 
escort, they had no reason to fear an army of thievish 
Arabs. 

‘« True, sir,’ answered the captain. ‘‘If we only had 
to look out for such common rubbish as these, we might 
all sleep without danger. But, for some time past, the 
terrible Orbasan has shown himself again ; and now one 
has to look out for his safety.” 

The stranger asked, who was this Orbasan; and Ach- 
med, the old merchant, replied : 

‘‘There are innumerable stories circulating among 
the common people about this singular man. Some 


he 3 


64 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


hold him to be a supernatural being, as he often sus- 
tains a successful struggle with five or six opponents at 
once ; while others regard him as a courageous French- 
man, whom misfortune has banished to this place. 
Thus much is certain, however, that he is an accursed 
robber and thief.” 

“You should not assert that without qualification,” 
answered Lezah, another of the merchants. ‘‘He isa 
robber, but he is a noble fellow, nevertheless, and proved 
himself such to a brother of mine, as I could easily show 
you. He has brought his tribe to the most perfect dis- 
cipline; and, so long as he ranges these deserts, no 
other tribe dares show itself. Besides, he does not rob 
like other villains, but exacts protection money from 
the caravans; and whoever pays him this willingly can 
complete his journey unmolested, for Orbasan is the 
sovereign of the desert.”’ 

Our travellers continued to chat thus with each other 
in their tent. Meanwhile, the escort, which had been 
posted around the encampment, began to show signs 
of great uneasiness. A considerable body of armed 
horsemen had shown itself at the distance of half an 
hour’s ride, and appeared to be advancing directly 
upon the camp. One of the guard, therefore, came to 
the tent to announce that they were probably about to 
be attacked. The merchants consulted together on 
what course they should adopt, whether to advance 
towards their assailants, or to wait in their present po- 
sition for the attack. Achmed and the two older mer- 
chants preferred the latter; but Zaleukos and the fiery 
Muley insisted on advancing, and called on the stranger 
for his assistance. This latter drew calmly from his 
girdle a little red handkerchief, dotted with blue stars, 
and, binding it to a lance, directed one of the slaves to 


THE STORY OF THE SEVERED HAND. 65 


attach it to the tent. He pledged his life, he said, that 
the horsemen, when they saw this signal, would retire 
without molesting them. Muley had no faith in this 
result ; but the slave fastened the lance to the top of 
the tent. Meanwhile, all in the camp had seized their 
arms, and were looking at the approaching horsemen, 
in strained expectation. The little banner appeared, 
however, to exert a remarkable influence over these 
fierce children of the desert, for they turned suddenly 
from their course, and swept away in a large circle over 
the sandy desert. 

Our travellers stood some minutes in amazement. 
The stranger wore an air of calm indifference, and stood 
gazing from the front of the tent across the plain. At 
length, Muley broke silence. ‘‘ Who art thou, mighty 
stranger,’ he cried, ‘‘who tamest, by a sign, the wild 
hordes of the desert? ”’ 

‘‘You rank my power higher than it deserves,’’ an- 
swered.Selim Baruch. ‘‘I provided myself with this 
signal when I made my escape. What it means I know 
not; but this much I do know, that whoever travels 
with this emblem finds in it a powerful protector.” 

The merchants thanked the stranger, calling him the 
savior of their lives. In truth, the number of the 
assailants had been so large that the caravan could 
have made only a brief resistance to their attack. 

Every one retired to rest, with a lighter heart, after 
this event; and, when the sun began to sink, and the 
evening wind blew freshly over the wilderness of sand, 
they broke up their encampment, and set forth again 
on their journey. 

The following day the camp was pitched not more 
than a day’s journey from the borders of the desert. 

6* 


on 


66 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


When the travellers had assembled again in the large 
tent, Lezah, the merchant, took his turn to speak. 

‘‘T said to you, yesterday, that the dreaded Orbasan 
was a man of a noble heart: let me prove it, to-day, by 
narrating an adventure of my brother’s. 

‘«« My father was cadi in Acara, and had three children. 
I was the oldest, my brother and sister being much 
younger. When I was twenty years old, my uncle, my 
father’s brother, summoned me before him. He ap- 
pointed me the heir of all his property, on the condition 
that I should remain with him till his decease. He 
reached a good old age, so that two years had elapsed 
before I returned to my father’s house, and then, for 
the first time, learned the dreadful fate which had fallen 
on my family, and to what gracious ends great Allah 
had directed it at last.’’ 





THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 


My brother, Mustapha, and Fatima, my sister, were 
nearly of the same age; the former but two years the 
elder. They lived together affectionately, and did 
mutually everything in their power to lighten the bur- 
den of our father’s declining years. On Fatima’s six- 
teenth birthday her brother made arrangements for a 
feast. He invited all their playmates, set a handsome 
entertainment before them in his father’s garden, and, 
when evening came on, invited them to take a short 
trip out to sea, in a vessel he had hired, and had had 
handsomely decorated for the occasion. Fatima and 
her playmates assented with delight, for the evening 
was lovely, and the city, when seen from the water, 





RESCUE OF FATIMA. 





THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 67 


and especially at evening, wore its most beautiful 
aspect. The girls were so much pleased with their trip 
that they urged my brother to extend their excursion. 
Mustapha yielded, with great unwillingness, for a cor- 
sair had been observed in the neighborhood only a few 
days before. There was a promontory, which ran out 
into the sea, not far from the city, and the girls ex- 
pressed a wish to go to it, to witness the sunset. As 
they rowed round the point, they saw, a short distance 
off, a vessel crowded with armed men. Suspecting 
evil, my brother ordered the boatmen to put about and 
make for the shore. His anxiety was soon justified, 
for the strange vessel commenced a rapid pursuit, and, 
having more oars, soon succeeded in placing itself 
between my brother and the shore. The girls, when 
they perceived the danger of their position, sprang from 
their seats, crying and shrieking. In vain did Musta- 
pha attempt to tranquillize them; in vain represent to 
them that they must remain quiet, as they exposed the 
boat to the danger of oversetting, by running needlessly 
from one end to the other. It was of no avail; and at 
last, when the near approach of the other boat caused 
them all to crowd to the opposite side of their own, it 
overturned, 

Meanwhile, the people on shore had been watch- 
ing the movements of the strange boat; and, as for 
some time past great anxiety had been felt on ac- 
count of pirates, suspicion was aroused, and several 
vessels put out from land to bring aid to our voyagers. ” 
But they came only just in time to rescue them from a 
watery grave. The hostile boat had disappeared during 
the confusion ; and great uncertainty existed on board 
the two boats which had received the saved whether 
all had escaped. They approached one another, and 


or 


68 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


ah! it was discovered that my sister and one of her 
playmates was absent, while, at the same time, they 
discovered a stranger, in one of the boats, whom no one 
knew. In answer to Mustapha’s threats, he confessed 
that he belonged to the hostile vessel which lay at 
anchor two miles further out, and that his companions 
had left him in the lurch, in their hasty flight, while he 
was engaged in helping out of the water the sinking 
girls ; and he admitted to have seen them bear away 
two of the maidens to their ship. 

My old father’s sorrow was intense, and Mustapha’s 
grief almost brought him to the grave; for, not only 
had he lost a darling sister,—and accused himself 
incessantly of being the cause of her misfortune, — but 
Fatima’s friend, too, who shared her misery, had been 
promised to him, by her parents, for his bride, and he 
had not yet ventured to confess his engagement to his 
father, because her family were poor and of humble 
station. My father was a harsh and cruel man. When 
the acuteness of his sorrow had grown somewhat less, 
he summoned Mustapha to his presence, and said to him: 
‘© Your folly has robbed me of the consolation of my old 
age, and the joy of my eyes. Go! I banish you forever 
from my presence. I curse you and your descendants ; 
and never shall you be released from your father’s mal- 
ediction till you bring back my lost Fatima to my arms.”’ 

My poor brother had not looked for this. He had 
already resolved to go in search of his sister and her 
friend, and had hoped to obtain his father’s blessing on 
his undertaking, and now he had sent him, instead, 


laden with his curse, into the world. But as his pre- 


vious misery had dejected him, so this climax to his 
unliappiness, which he had not merited, served only to 
steel his courage. 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 69 


He repaired to the imprisoned pirate, to inquire what 
had been his ship’s intended voyage, and was informed 
that she was engaged in the slave-trade, and usually 
found an extensive market in Balsora. 

When he returned to the house to prepare himself for 
his journey, his father’s anger seemed to have mod- 
erated somewhat, and he sent him a purse of gold as a 
provision for his travels. Mustapha took a tearful 
leave of the parents of Zoraide, — for so his bride was 
named,—and set forth on the road to Balsora. 

He made the journey by land, since no ship went 
directly to Balsora from our little city; and he was 
compelled to make his daily journeys long, so as not to 
reach Balsora too long after the pirates. But having a 
good horse, and no baggage, he hoped to reach the 
latter city in six days. On the evening of the fourth 
day, while riding on alone, three men suddenly attacked 
him. Seeing that they were well-armed, powerful men, 
and supposing them to aim rather at his horse and his 
money than his life, he called out to them that he sur- 
rendered. They dismounted from their horses, bound 
his feet together under his horse’s belly, and, taking 
him between them, and leading his horse by the bridle, 
rode swiftly away with their prisoner, without speaking 
a word. 

Mustapha surrendered himself to dark despair. His 
father’s curse seemed to be already tending to its ac- 
complishment, and how could he hope to bring safety 
to his sister and Zoraide, when, robbed of all his means, od 
he had only his worthless life to devote to their delivery. 
Mustapha and his silent escort had ridden perhaps an 
hour, when they turned aside into a retired vale. This 
little valley was bordered by lofty trees, and its soft, 
green turf, and a brook which flowed gayly down its 


79 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


centre, invited repose. To his surprise he perceived 
fifteen or twenty tents pitched here. Camels and 
horses were fastened to the tent-pegs, while from one 
of the tents came the joyous tones of a lute, accompa- 
nying two superb male voices. It seemed to my brother 
impossible that people, who had selected so lovely a 
place for their encampment, could entertain evil inten- 
tions against him, and he obeyed, therefore, without 
apprehension, the directions of his guides, who, unbind- 
ing him, ordered him to dismount. They led him to a 
tent, larger than the others, and which was handsomely, 
nay, luxuriously, decorated. Superb gold-wrought 
cushions, embroidered foot-cloths, and gilded censers, 
would, anywhere else, have denoted wealth and dig- 
nity ; but here they indicated only audacious robbery. 
On one of the cushions sat a small, elderly man; his 
face was hideous; his skin was of a dark brown hue; 
and a disagreeable expression of knavish cunning about 
his eyes and mouth made his general appearance highly 
repulsive. Although the little creature was trying to 
assume an air of authority, Mustapha soon saw that this 
richly-furnished tent was not for him, and his opinion 
was confirmed by the manner of his guides. 

“Where is the chief?’ they demanded. 

“He has gone hunting,” replied the other; ‘‘ but he 
has ordered me to take his place.” 

‘‘He has done a foolish thing, then,’’ answered one 
of the robbers; ‘‘ for it must be settled soon whether 
this hound shall live or die; and that the chief knows 
better than you.” 

The little manikin, sensitive as to his dignity, rose 
from his seat, and stretched out his arm as if to reach 
the offender’s ear; but, seeing his attempt was useless, 
he opened a torrent of abuse which shook the tent. 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 71 


The door suddenly flew back, and a tall, stately person 
entered, young and handsome as a prince. His clothes 
and arms, with the exception of a richly-ornamented 
dagger and a gleaming sabre, were plain and simple ; 
but his stern eye and his martial aspect commanded 
instant respect. 

‘Who dares quarrel in my tent?’’ he cried to the 
terrified disputants. A deep silence prevailed for some 
time, and, finally, one of the three guards told how it 
came about. The chief’s face flamed with anger. 
‘‘ When did I ever appoint you to my place, Hassan ? ” 
he exclaimed to the little man, in a terrible voice. The 
latter, in his terror, shrunk smaller than before, and 
crept towards the door of the tent. <A significant ges- 
ture of the chieftain caused him to fly through the aper- 
ture with a leap of extraordinary agility. 

When the pigmy had disappeared, the three men 
placed Mustapha before the master of the tent, who had 
meanwhile stretched himself upon the cushions. ‘‘ We 
bring him, my lord, whom you commanded us to seize.” 

The chief looked long at his prisoner, and said, at 
length : ‘‘ Pasha of Sulieika! your own conscience will 
tell you why you are now standing before Orbasan.”’ 

My brother threw himself on his knees before him, 
and answered: ‘‘ My lord, you are in error. I am a 
miserable wretch, but not the pasha whom you seek.”’ 

Every one in the tent showed signs of great surprise, 
and the master of the tent answered: ‘ Wretch! it 
can avail you little to deny yourself, for I will bring 
before you those who know you well.”” He called for 
Zuleima, and an old woman was brought into the tent, 
who replied to the question whether she recognized in 
my brother the Pasha of Sulieika: ‘‘ Yes; I swear by 


72 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the grave of the Prophet, that it is the pasha, and no 
other.” 

‘You see, miserable, how your falsehood has melted 
away!”’ cried the chief, in a fury. ‘‘ You are too base 
for me to soil my good dagger with your blood! At 


“sunrise, to-morrow, I will bind you to the tail of my 


horse, and drag you through the forest, till the sun sets 
behind the hills of Sulieika! ” 

My unhappy brother’s courage sank. ‘It is my cruel 
father’s curse, which brings me to an ignominious 
death! ’’ he exclaimed, weeping bitterly ; ‘‘and you 
are lost, sweet sister ; and you, Zoraide!”’ 

‘‘Your dissimulation is of no avail,’’ said one of the 
robbers, binding his hands behind his back. ‘‘ Make 
good time in leaving the tent, for the chief is biting his 
lips, and feeling for his dagger! If you would live 
another night, come away!” 

At the instant that the robbers were removing my 
brother from the tent, they encountered three other 
men, driving a prisoner before them. They entered 
with him, and, with the words, ‘‘ We bring here the 
pasha, as you ordered us,”’ placed the second prisoner 
before the couch of the chief. My brother had a chance 
to look at the prisoner, as they brought him in, and he 
himself could see the resemblance which this man bore 
to him, though his complexion was darker, and his beard 
had a blacker shade. 

The chief seemed bewildered at the entrance of the 
second prisoner. ‘‘ Which of you is the true pasha?” 
he asked, at length, looking alternately at my brother 
and the pasha. 

“If you mean the Pasha of Sulieika,’’ replied the 
prisoner, in a haughty tone, “I am he.” 

The chief looked at him long with a stern and fearful 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 73 


gaze, and made a silent gesture to remove him from the 
tent. When this had been done, he approached my 
brother, and, cutting his bonds. with his dagger, signed 
to him to take his seat on the couch. ‘It gives me 
pain,’”’ said he, ‘‘ that I have mistaken you for that mon- 
ster; but, stranger, attribute it to the decree of Provi- 
dence, that you fell into the hands of my soldiers 
exactly at the hour appointed for the downfall of yon 
accursed fiend.’”’ My brother begged, in reply, a single 
favor, which was, to permit him to resume his journey, 
for that delay was fatal to his peace. The chief inquired 
the cause of his extreme haste ; and, when Mustapha 
had told his story, persuaded him to remain during the 
night in his tent, as he and his horse greatly needed 
rest, and promised that the next morning he would 
point him out a road which would bring him to Balsora 
in a day and a half. My brother assented, was hospita- 
bly entertained, and slept calmly in the robber’s tent 
till morning. 

When he awoke, the next day, he found himself alone. 
He heard the sound of voices outside the tent, appar- 
ently those of the chief and his little dark-skinned ser- 
vant. He listened a moment, and to his horror over- 
heard the pigmy strenuously urging his master to kill 
the stranger, lest, when set at liberty, he should betray 
them all. 

Mustapha saw that the little man hated him for hay- 
ing been the cause of his unfortunate experience of the 
preceding day. The chief seemed to hesitate a moment. 
‘“No,”’ said he; ‘‘ he is my guest, and the laws of hos- 
pitality are sacred. He does not look like one who 
would betray us.” 

Saying this, he threw back the curtain of the tent 
and entered. ‘Peace be with you, Mustapha!” he 


| 


’ sae ; 


74 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


said; ‘‘let us take our morning draught, and prepare 
ourselves for our departure.’”’ He handed my brother a 
cup of sherbet, and, having drunk a similar one himself, 
gave orders for their horses to be saddled, and Musta- 
pha mounted his steed with a lighter heart. They left 
the encampment, and entered a broad path which led 
into the forest. The chief told my brother that the 
pasha, whom they had captured while hunting, had 
given him his promise to permit him and his people to 
remain unmolested in his territory; but that, a few 
weeks previously, he had taken one of his bravest men, 
and had hanged him after the most frightful tortures. 
The tribe had in consequence been on the watch for him 
ever since; and to-day he was to die. Mustapha 
did not venture to oppose this resolution, for he was 
only too glad to escape himself. 

At the borders of the forest the chief reined in his 
horse, and, pointing out the road, gave my brother a 
parting grasp of the hand, and said: ‘‘ Mustapha, you 
have been, in a wonderful manner, the guest of the rob- 
ber Orbasan ; but I shall not exact of you a promise not 
to betray what you have seen and heard. You have 
endured unjustly, at my hand, all the agony of antici- 
pated death, and I owe you a recompense. Take this 
dagger as asouvenir. Should you ever need assistance, 
send it to me, and | will hasten to your aid. This purse 
you may perhaps find useful for your journey.’”? My 
brother thanked him for his generosity, and accepted 
the dagger, but declined the purse. Orbasan pressed 
his hand once more, and, dropping the purse on the 
ground, disappeared swiftly in the forest. As Musta- 
pha saw that it would be idle to attempt to overtake 
him, he dismounted to pick up the purse, and was filled 
with surprise at the liberality of his host; for the purse 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 75 


was filled with gold pieces. He thanked Allah for his 
escape, and, commending the noble robber to his favor, 
set forth with heightened courage on his journey to 
Balsora.”’ 

Lezah paused, and looked inquiringly at Achmed. 

‘‘ Nay, if this be so,” said the latter, ‘‘I shall change 
my ‘opinion of Orbasan, for his conduct toward your 
brother was most noble.” 

‘‘He acted as a valiant Mussulman should,”’ cried 
Muley; ‘“‘but I hope you have not ended your story 
yet, for we are all curious to hear how it fared with 
your brother, and whether he succeeded in rescuing 
your sister Fatima and the beautiful Zoraide.”’ 

‘Tf I do not tire you, I will continue the story with 
pleasure, for my brother’s subsequent adventures were 
singularly strange and varied.” 

At noon of the seventh day Mustapha entered the 
gate of Balsora. Dismounting at a caravansary, he 
inquired when the slave-market took place, which was 
annually held in the city. He received the frightful 
answer that he had come two days too late. Great 
regrets were expressed for his tardiness, and he was 
told that his loss was heavy; for that two female 
slaves had arrived on the last day of the sale, of such 
wonderful beauty that they had drawn upon them the 
eyes of every beholder; that they had excited the 
greatest competition; and that they had at last been 
disposed of at an enormous price, and carried by their 
purchaser into the country. On further inquiries re- 
garding these two slaves, no doubt remained in his 
mind that they were the unfortunate girls he was in 
search of. He learned, moreover, that the man who 
had bought them resided forty leagues from Balsora ; 
that his name was Thiuli-Kos, and that he was a 


76 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


wealthy and distinguished, but aged man, who had 
in former days been the sultan’s capitan-pasha, but 
now was leading a life of ease and retirement on his 
estates. 

Mustapha thought at first of instantly remounting, 
to overtake Thiuli-Kos, who could scarcely be a day in 
advance ; but, reflecting that, being alone, he could not 
hope to influence the powerful pasha, much less deprive 
him of his purchase by force, he set to work to devise 
another plan, and soon hit upon one. His resemblance 
to the Pasha of Sulieika, which had so nearly cost him 
his life, suggested to him to pay a visit under this 
name to the house of Thiuli-Kos, and there make an 
attempt to rescue the two unfortunate prisoners. He 
hired, with this intention, some servants and horses, 
for which Orbasan’s gold stood him in excellent stead ; 
and, having procured handsome garments for himself 
and his followers, set out for Thiuli’s castle. At the 
end of five days’ journey he arrived in its neighbor- 
hood. It lay in a beautiful plain, and was encircled by 
lofty walls, of a height little less than that of the build- 
ings within. When Mustapha had arrived at the place, 
he darkened his hair and beard, and having dyed his 
complexion with the juice of an herb, to resemble that 
of the pasha, he sent one of his followers to the castle, 
‘and craved a night’s lodging in the name of the Pasha 
of Sulieika. The servant soon returned, having with 
him four handsomely-dressed slaves, who took Musta- 
pha’s horse by the bridle and led him into the court- 
yard. There they helped him to dismount, and four 
other slaves, similarly dressed, escorted him up a broad 
flight of marble steps into the presence of Thiuli-Kos. 
Thiuli, who was an old, jovial fellow, received my 
brother courteously, and set before him the best his 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 77. 


house afforded. After supper, Mustapha brought round 
the conversation, little by little, to the new purchases, 
and Thiuli extolled their beauty to the skies, regretting, 
at the same time, their constant melancholy, though 
this, he thought, would soon pass off. My brother was 
delighted with the success of his manceuvre, and 
retired to rest with the highest expectations of a for- 
tunate result. 

He had slept, perhaps, an hour, when he was awak- 
ened by the gleam of a lamp which fell blindingly upon 
his eyes. Raising himself, the thought occurred that he 
must be still dreaming, for before him stood the little, 
dark-skinned rascal of Orbasan’s tent, a lamp in his 
hand, and his mouth expanded into a broad grin. Mus- 
tapha pinched his arm, and tweaked his nose, to satisfy 
himself that he was awake, but the apparition remained 
unaltered. 

‘What do you want in my chamber?”’ cried Musta- 
pha, when he had recovered from his amazement. 

‘Keep cool, my lord,’’ said the dwarf. ‘‘ The simple 
fact is, I have detected the reason of your visit here. 
I well remember your agreeable face ; but really, if I had 
not helped to hang the pasha with my own hands, I 
think you would have deceived even me. But I am 
here now to make you a proposal.” 

‘‘ First of all, tell me how you came here,”’ said Mus- 
tapha, full of suspicion that he had been betrayed. 

‘‘ Certainly,’’ answered the other. ‘‘I could not live 
harmoniously any longer with the chief, and, conse- 
quently, ran away. You, Mustapha, were the sole cause 
of our disagreement, and you must therefore promise to 
give me your sister to wife, and I will help you to run 
away with her. If you refuse, I will go to my new mas- 
ter, and tell him a thing or two about the new pasha.” 


T* 


78 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


Mustapha was beside himself with apprehension and 
rage. Just when he believed himself at the accom- 
plishment of his hopes, this miserable wretch must come 
and overthrow them! There was but one way to prevent 
the destruction of his plans: he must kill the little mon- 
ster. With one bound, he leaped from the bed towards 
the intruder; but the latter, who had probably antici- 
pated some such event, dropped the lamp, which imme- 
diately went out, and rushed out into the darkness, 
shouting violently for help. 

Wise counsels were now precious. He must abandon 
the prisoners for the moment, and think only of his own 
safety. He went to the window, to see if he could jump 
out. The distance to the ground was considerable, and 
beyond stood a high wall, which must be surmounted. 
He stood at the window hesitating, when he heard 
many voices approaching his chamber. They were 
already at the door ; so, seizing his dagger and clothes, in 
desperation he leaped out. The fall was a severe one, 
but he felt that no limbs were broken ; and, jumping up, 
he ran. to the wall which encircled the castle, climbed 
over it, to the astonishment of his pursuers, and found 
himself at liberty. He ran till he came to a small wood, 
and there threw himself down exhausted. Here he 
deliberated on what was to be done. His horses and 
servants he had been compelled to leave in the lurch, 
but his gold, which he carried in his girdle, he had suc- 
ceeded in saving. 

His shrewd brain soon suggested to him another 
means of affecting a rescue. He went still deeper into 
the wood, till he came to a village, where he bought a 
horse for a small sum, by the aid of which he soon 
reached a neighboring city. There he made inquiries 
for a physician, and was directed to an old and experi- 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. "719 


enced man of that profession. Mustapha persuaded 
him, for a few pieces of gold, to provide him with a 
medicine which would induce a sleep resembling death, 
and obtained from him also its antidote. Possessed of 
these articles, he purchased a long, false beard, a black 
robe, and various books and apparatus, so as to person- 
ate a travelling physician, and, loading his property on 
an ass, travelled back again to the castle of Thiuli-Kos. 
He felt sure of escaping detection this time, for his 
beard disguised him so entirely that he scarcely recog- 
nized himself. Arriving at Thiuli’s castle, he gave out 
that he was the famous physician, Chakamankabudi- 
baba; and the result was as he had anticipated, for his 
sonorous name recommended him so mightily to the old 
blockhead, that he invited him to his own table. Chak- 
amankabudibaba made his appearance before Thiuli, 
and they had conversed together scarcely an hour, 
before the old fellow resolved to submit his female 
slaves to the skill of the learned physician. Mustapha 
could with difficulty conceal his joy that he was now 
on the point of once more seeing his beloved sister, 
and followed Thiuli, with a beating heart, into his 
seraglio. They came to a handsomely-furnished cham- 
ber, in which there was no one to be seen. 

‘‘Chambaba, or whatever your name is, most excel- 
lent doctor,’”’ said Thiuli-Kos, ‘‘ place yourself by that 
hole in the wall; each of my slaves shall put her arm 
through it, and you can decide then noe her pulse 
is feverish or healthy.’’ 

Say what he pleased, Mustapha could not get per- 
mission to see his patients. Thiuli now drew a long 
strip of paper from his girdle, and began to call his 
slaves one by one in aloud tone, and at each name a 
hand came through the wall, and our physician felt its 


& 
80 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


pulse. Six had been called and pronounced in good 
health, when Thiuli read the name of ‘‘ Fatima,’”’ and a 
little white hand slipped through the hole. Mustapha 
seized it, trembling with delight, and declared impres- 
sively that it showed indications of severe illness. 
Thiuli was much concerned, and gave orders to the 
learned Chakamankabudibaba to prepare a medicine for 
her without delay. The physician left the room, and 
wrote on a slip of paper the following words : 

‘‘ Fatima, I can rescue you, if you will resolve to 
take a potion which will deprive you of consciousness. 
I possess the means of restoring you to life. If you 
have the courage to do this, say that this drink has 
done you no good, and I shall take it as a sign that you 
assent.” 

He soon came back into the room where Thiuli was 
waiting for him. He brought with him a harmless 
liquid, and, feeling her pulse once more, thrust the 
little note under her bracelet, while he handed the 
drink through the hole. Thiuli seemed to be in great 
uneasiness on Fatima’s account, and postponed the 
examination of the remainder till a more convenient 
time. When he had left the chamber with Mustapha, 
he asked, in a melancholy tone: 

‘‘Chadibaba, tell me frankly, what is your opinion 
of Fatima’s illness ?”’ 

Chakamankabudibaba answered, with a deep sigh: 

‘““Ah, my lord! May the Prophet send you conso- 
lation, but I fear she has a dangerous fever, which may 
carry her off at any moment.”’ 

At this Thiuli’s anger broke forth. ‘‘ How! accursed 
dog of a physician! Shall she, for whom I gave two 
thousand pieces of gold, die on my hands, like a worth- 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. “sl 


less cow? MHark’ee, if you do not save her I will chop 
off your head.”’ 

My brother saw that he had made a false step, and 
held out a little hope of her recovery. While they 
were talking, a black slave came out of the seraglio to 
tell the physician that the drink had done no good. 

“Call up all your skill, Chakamdababelda, or what- 
ever your name is; Ill pay whatever you ask,”’ cried 
Thiuli-Kos, frantic at the thought of losing so much 
money. 

‘‘T will give her a decoction,’’ answered the physi- 
cian, ‘‘ which will free her from all her ills.’’ 

‘“Yes, yes,’”’ sobbed old Thiuli, ‘give her a decoc- 
tion.” 

Mustapha retired full of hope to prepare his draught, 
and having given it to the black slave, and showed him 
how much should be taken at once, he went to Thiuli- 
Kos, and, telling him he must go and gather some sooth- 
ing herbs from the sea-shore, immediately hurried out. 
Reaching the sea, which lay at no great distance from 
the castle, he pulled off his false robes and threw them 
into the water, where they floated about merrily ; and, 
concealing himself immediately in the thicket, waited 
for the approach of night, when he crept quietly to the 
grave-yard of Thiuli’s castle. 

Mustapha had been absent from the castle scarcely 
an hour, when news was brought to Thiuli that his 
slave Fatima was at the point of death. He sent to 
the sea-shore to fetch the physician; but his messen- 
gers soon came back with the information that the 
poor physician had fallen into the water, and was 
drowned, for they had seen his black robe floating on 
the surface, and his stately beard appearing at inter- 
vals above the waves. Seeing from this that there was 


82 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


no further hope, Thiuli cursed himself and all the rest 
of mankind, tearing his beard, and beating his head 
against the wall. But all was of no avail, and Fatima 
soon gave up the ghost. When Thiuli received the 
news of her death, he ordered a coffin to be made at 
once, not being able to endure a dead body in his 
house, and ordered her to be borne to the grave-yard. 
The bearers carried thither the coffin, set it down 
quickly, and ran away; for they heard a loud groaning 
and sighing, apparently coming from the other coffins. 

Mustapha, who had concealed himself behind them, 
and had been the cause of the bearers’ alarm, came for- 
ward from his place of refuge, and, lighting a lamp 
which he had provided for the purpose, drew out the 
glass vessel containing the antidote, and raised the lid 
of Fatima’s coffin. But what was his dismay, when he 
saw, by the light of his lamp, the features of a total 
stranger! Neither his sister, nor Zoraide, but a wholly 
different person, lay in the coffin. It took him long to 
recover from this second stroke of misfortune; but 
compassion finally vanquished rage. He opened his 
phial, and administered the potion. The figure opened 
her eyes, drew a long breath, and seemed for some time 
trying to remember where she was. At length she 
seemed to become conscious of what had taken place ; 
for she rose from her coffin, and fell at Mustapha’s feet. 
‘“‘How canI thank you, gracious being,’ she cried, 
‘‘for liberating me from my hideous imprisonment ? ”’ 

Mustapha interrupted her expressions of gratitude 
by asking ‘how it had happened that she had been 
saved, and not his sister Fatima? ”’ 

She looked at him with astonishment. ‘‘ My rescue 
is now intelligible,”’ 
could not understand. Iam called Fatima, in this cas- 


she answered, ‘ which before I 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 83 


tle; and I am she to whom you gave the letter and the 
sleeping-draught.”’ 

My brother entreated her to give him information of 
his sister and Zoraide, and learned that they were both 
in the castle, but had received different names. They 
were now called Mirza and Nourmahal. 

Fatima, seeing my brother overwhelmed by his mis- 
take, bade him take courage, and promised to devise 
some means by which to liberate both the captives. En- 
couraged by these assurances, Mustapha conceived new 
hopes, and begged her to explain : whereupon she said: 

‘‘T have been Thiuli’s slave for full five months, and 
have been constantly plotting to escape. But the 
attempt was too difficult to undertake alone. You may 
have noticed, in the inner court of the castle, a foun- 
tain, spouting water from ten orifices. This fountain 
struck my attention. I remembered to have seen a sim- 
ilar one in my father’s house, the water of which was 
conveyed through a spacious conduit. To learn wheth- 
er this was constructed in the same way, I extolled 
its beauty one day to Thiuli, and asked who was its 
architect. ‘I designed it myself,’ replied he; ‘and 
what you see is the least part of it; for the water comes 
here from a stream at least a thousand feet distant, and 
flows through an arched pipe of the diameter of a man’s 
height ; and all this I built myself.’ When I heard this, 
I longed for the strength of a man for only a single mo- 
ment, that I might pull out a stone from the side of the 
fountain, and escape from the place through the pipe. 
I will show you it. Through it you can penetrate into 
the castle, and free your friends. But you must have 
with you at least two men, to overpower the slaves who 
guard the seraglio.”’ 

This was her project. My brother Mustapha, though 


84 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


twice defeated in his hopes, plucked up courage a third 
time, and hoped, with Allah’s aid, to carry out the 
slave’s suggestion. He promised to aid her to return 
to her home,-on condition she would assist him in enter- 
ing the castle. One anxiety still troubled him; and 
that was, where he should procure two or three faithful 
assistants. He remembered, suddenly, Orbasan’s dag- 
ger, and the promise he had given to hasten to his aid 
in time of need; and he set out immediately with Fatima 
in search of the robber. 

In the city where he had transformed himself to a 
physician, he bought a horse with his last remaining 
piece of gold, at the same time obtaining lodgings for 
Fatima in the suburbs, in the house of a poor woman. 
He himself hastened to the mountains, where he had 
first fallen in with Orbasan, and reached them in three 
days. He soon found the tent, and placed himself 
unexpectedly before the robber, who welcomed him 
warmly. He described his several unsuccessful at- 
tempts, at which the grave Orbasan could not avoid 
laughing a little, especially when he thought of the 
physician Chakamankabudibaba. He was furious at the 
treachery of the pigmy, and swore to hang him with 
his own hands, wherever he caught him. He promised 
my brother, however, to give his assistance, as soon as . 
the latter had refreshed himself from the fatigues of his 
journey. Mustapha, therefore, again spent the night 
in Orbasan’s tent, and they set forth on their expedition 
with the earliest beams of the sun, the robber taking 
with him three of his boldest men, well mounted and 
armed. They rode steadily, and came, after two days’ 
journey, to the little city where Mustapha had left the 
rescued Fatima. Thence they travelled on with her to 
the little wood, whence Thiuli’s castle could be plainly 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 85 


seen; and there they halted to wait for night. As 
soon as it was dark they crept on, under Fatima’s 
guidance, to the stream into which the water-pipe 
opened, and succeeded in finding it after a brief search. 
Arrived there, they sent back Fatima and one of the 
servants with the horses, and prepared to enter; but, 
before she left them, Fatima once more went accurately 
over her instructions to them, which were: ‘‘ that they 
would come out through the fountain into the inner 
court; that they would find there, in the corners right 
and left, two towers ; and that in the sixth door, count- 
ing from the right-hand tower, they would find Fatima 
and Zoraide, guarded by two black slaves.” 

Orbasan, Mustapha, and the two others, well pro- 
vided with weapons and crowbars, entered the conduit. 
They found themselves up to their waists in water, but 
went forward bravely. They came to the fountain, 
after half an hour, and speedily inserted their crowbars. 
The walls were thick and strong, but they could not © 
long resist the united strength of four powerful men, 
and an opening was soon broken, large enough to allow 
them to creep easily through. Orbasan went first, and 
helped the others to follow him. When they had all 
penetrated the court-yard, they examined the side of 
the castle facing them, in search of the designated door. 
But they were not unanimous as to which it was, for, 
counting from the right tower towards the left, they 
found a door which had been walled up ; and they could 
not decide whether Fatima had omitted or included this 
in her reckoning. But Orbasan hesitated only a mo- 
ment; and, crying, ‘‘ My good sword shall open this 
door!’’? went to the sixth, the others following him. 
They opened the door, and found six black slaves lying 
asleep on the floor. They were just about to close it 

8 


86 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


again softly, seeing their mistake, when a figure in the 
corner rose from its recumbent posture, and in a well- 
known voice shrieked for help. It was the pigmy 
from Orbasan’s camp. Before the blacks rightly knew 
what had happened to them, Orbasan rushed upon the 
dwarf, tore his girdle in two, gagged his mouth, and 
tied his hands behind his back. He then turned to the 
slaves, several of whom had been already partly bound 
by Mustapha and the two other men, and aided in over- 
powering them. They then put their daggers to the 
slaves’ hearts, and, demanding where Mirza and Nour- 
mahal were, learned that they were in the next chamber. 
Mustapha rushed to it, and there found Fatima and 
Zoraide, who had been awakened by the uproar. 

The two girls hastily collected their jewels and 
clothes, and followed Mustapha. The two robbers sug- 
gested to Orbasan to plunder what they could find ; but 
he forbade it, saying, ‘‘No man shall have it in his 
power to say that Orbasan enters houses by night to 
steal gold.” 

Mustapha and the rescued captives slipped quickly 
into the conduit, where Orbasan promised to follow 
them soon. As soon as the former had disappeared 
within the opening, Orbasan and one of the robbers 
took the dwarf, and carried him out into the court. 
There they bound round his neck a silken cord, which 
they had brought for the purpose, and hung him from 
the highest branch of the fountain. Having punished, 
in this efficacious way, the scoundrel’s treachery, they 
followed Mustapha. The two rescued ones thanked 
their noble preserver with tears of gratitude ; but Orba- 
san compelled them to a hasty flight, for it was more 
than probable that Thruli-Kos would institute a prompt 
pursuit. 


THE RESCUE OF FATIMA. 87 


The next day Mustapha and his rescued captives 
parted from Orbasan with deep emotion. They will 
never forget the obligations they owe to him. Fatima, 
the released slave, went in disguise to Balsora, to take 
ship thence to her native country. 

The hero and heroines of my story reached home after 
a short and pleasant journey. The joy of meeting 
almost killed my old father. He gave a great feast, on 
the day after their return, to which he invited the entire 
city, where my brother was made to tell his story be- 
fore a great assemblage of relatives and friends, and all, 
with one voice, extolled the noble robber to the skies. 

When my brother had ended his recital, my father 
rose from his seat and led Zoraide to him. ‘‘I absolve 
you from my curse! ’’ said he, in solemn tones. ‘‘ Take, 
as a recompense, her whom your ceaseless zeal has 
bravely won. Take my paternal blessing; and may 
our city never perish for want of men rivalling you, my 
son, in brotherly love, courage, and devotion.” 





The caravan had reached the end of the desert, and 
the travellers greeted with delight the green meadows 
and dense foliage, whose beauties they had been long- 
ing for so many days. A caravansary lay in a pleasant 
valley near by, where they determined to pass the 
night; and, although it promised little ease or refresh- 
ment to our wayworn merchants, the whole company 
felt gayer and happier than before ; for the thought that 
they had passed safely through all the dangers and diffi- 
culties which a journey through the desert of necessity 
brings with it, had opened every heart, and attuned 
their souls to merriment and jest. Muley danced a 
comic dance, and sang songs which elicited smiles 
even from the grave Zaleukos. But, not satisfied with 


88 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


having enlivened his companions with song and dance, 
he gave them, in his best manner, the story he had 
promised them, beginning, as soon as he had recovered 
from the effect of his gambols, in the following way. 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 


In Mecca, my beloved native city, lived a man, whom 
people called Little Muck. Although very young at 
the time, I can still distinctly remember him, partly 
because I was once nearly cudgelled to death by my 
father on his account. Little Muck, when I knew him, 
was already a very old fellow, yet he was only three or 
four feet high. In addition to this, he had an extraor- 
dinary figure ; for his body, small and slender as it was, 
carried a head much larger and thicker than any other 
head in the city. He lived entirely alone in a large 
house, and did all his cooking himself; and no one in 
the city would have known whether he was alive or 
dead,—for he only went out once a month,—but for 
the fact that about noon every day a mighty steam 
ascended from his house. He was occasionally seen of 
an evening walking up and down on the roof of his 
house, though people who saw him from the street 
below, thought that it was his head alone, taking its 
evening exercise by itself. 

I and my comrades were riotous boys, ready to ban- 
ter and laugh at everybody ; and it was consequently a 
day of great rejoicing with us whenever Little Muck 
came out. We used to assemble in front of his house 
on the appointed day, which was always the same, 
and wait till he made his appearance; and as soon 





LITTLE MUCK, 


ae 





THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 89 


as his door opened, and his big head first poked itself 
out in its huge turban, followed by the rest of his 
diminutive body, clad in a miniature thread-bare cloak, 
and wide trousers, from which hung a long dagger, — so 
long indeed, that you could not decide whether Muck 
was attached to the dagger, or the dagger to Muck ; — 
when he came out in this way, the air echoed with 
our shouts of delight, and we would throw our caps 
high over our heads, and dance round him like mad as he 
went along. Little Muck would greet us with a solemn 
bow, and go down the street with great, long strides, 
shuffling about absurdly in his big slippers, which he 
wore very wide, and which I never saw paralleled else- 
where. We boys used to run behind him, shouting, 
“Little Muck! Little Muck!’ and we had a ludicrous 
verse, which we used occasionally to sing in his honor. 
It ran thus: 


** Little Muck, little Muck ! 

What an ugly dwarf you look ; 
Living in your great big home, 
Out but once a month you come. 
O, what a handsome little dwarf, 
With your head too large by half! 
Turn it round and take a look ; 
Run and catch us, little Muck.’ 


In this way we used to torment him incessantly, and, 
to my shame be it spoken, I was generally the most 
mischievous of the gang, for I often plucked him by the 
mantle, and once stepped in such a way on the heel of 
his huge slipper, that he fell down. This I thought 
was an excellent joke, but the laugh crossed to the 
other side of my mouth when I saw Muck making 
straight for my father’s house. He went in, and 
remained some time. I took my post near the door, 

gx 


90 | ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and saw Little Muck come out again some time after, 
accompanied by my father, who held him very respect- 
fully by the hand, and parted with him at the front 
door with many bows. I felt very ill at ease, and 
remained in my place of concealment a long time; but 
at length hunger, which I disliked even more than a 
flogging, drove me out, and, with submissive air and 
hanging head, I stood before my father. 

“‘T am informed you have insulted good Muck,” he 
said, in a severe tone. ‘‘I will tell you the story of 
this Muck, and you will never laugh at him again; but 
before and after, sir, you shall receive your regular 
dose.” 

My regular dose was five-and-twenty blows with a 
stick, which my father never failed to pay with exact 
punctuality. He now took down a long pipe-stick, 
unscrewed the amber mouth-piece, and belabored me 
with the stem more severely than ever. 

The five and twenty having been administered, he 
commanded me to listen, and told me the story of 
Little Muck. 

The father of Little Muck, whose real name is Mukra, 
was a respectable but poor man, and lived almost as 
much the life of an anchorite as his son does now. He 
could never endure his son Mukra, being ashamed of 
his dwarfish appearance, and left him to grow up in 
total neglect and ignorance. Little Muck was, even to 
his sixteenth year, a mere child, and his father, who 
was a stern man, found incessant fault with him for 
being so stupid and silly at an age when he ought long 
before to have outgrown his baby-shoes. 

The old man, however, met with a bad accident, which 
soon after cost him his life, and Muck was left, poor, 
ignorant, and destitute, on the world. His hard- 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 91 


hearted relations, whom the deceased owed more than 
he could pay, drove the poor little fellow from the . 
house, and advised him to go abroad and seek his for-. 
tune. Little Muck replied that he was perfectly ready 
to start, and only begged that his father’s clothes might 
be given him. The request was granted. His father 
had been a large, stout man, and, of course, the fit was 
the worst in the world. But Muck soon determined on 
his remedy, and, cutting off their superfluous length, 
put them on. But he had forgotten that it was neces- 
sary to take off some of their width as well; in conse- 
quence of which mistake he presented the extraordi- 
nary appearance which he still retains. The large tur- 
ban, the broad girdle, the wide hose, the mantle, 
are all heirlooms, from his father, which he has worn 
ever since. But what mattered it to him? He thrust 
the long Damascus dagger into his girdle, and, seizing a 
staff, departed from his father’s house. He wandered 
merrily about the waole day, for he had set out to seek 
his fortune. If he saw a piece of broken pottery shining 
in the sun, he picked it joyfully up, in the belief it 
would change into a diamond; if he saw a pond shining 
like a mirror, or the dome of a distant mosque glancing 
like fire in the sun, he ran towards them with delight, 
thinking he had come to a land of magic. But, alas! 
the delusive pictures vanished as he approached 
them; and all too soon his fatigue, and the craving 
in his stomach, reminded him that he was still in the 
land of the living. He travelled in this manner for two 
days, suffering much from hunger and wretchedness, 
and began to doubt considerably of the success of his 
search after fortune. The fruits of the field were his 
sole nourishment, and the hard earth his only bed. 

On the morning of the third day he saw from the 


92 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


top of a hill a large city. The crescent-moon shone 
brightly on its pinnacles, gay banners fluttered from its 
roofs, and seemed to beckon to our little Muck. Taken 
by surprise, he paused and stood gazing at the city 
and the surrounding landscape. ‘‘ Here surely will 
Little Muck find his fortune!’ he said to himself, leap- 
ing for joy in spite of his fatigue ; ‘‘ here or nowhere.” 
He summoned all his strength, and walked rapidly to 
the city. But, near as it had seemed, it was mid-day 
before he reached it, for his puny limbs almost refused 
their office, and he was fain to sit down in the shade 
of a palm-tree and rest himself. At length, however, 
he reached the gate. He pulled his mantle straight, 
bound his turban in neater folds, spread out his silken 
girdle still wider, and sloped his dagger at a more 
graceful angle; and then, brushing the dust from his 
shoes, and taking a fresh grasp of his stick, passed 
boldly through the gate. 

He passed slowly along through several streets ; but 
no doors flew open at his approach, and, contrary to his 
expectations, no one called after him, ‘Little Muck, 
come into my house, and eat and drink, and rest your 
little feet.” 

He was gazing at a large, handsome house, with 
great longing, when a window opened overhead, and 
an old woman put her head out and called, in a sing- 
song tone: 

** Come up, come up, 
All, ready to sup — 
The porridge is ready, 
So come, with your friends, 
And taste of the food 
Which my bounty extends. 


Come up, come up, 
All, ready to sup.’’ 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 93 


The door of the house opened, and Muck saw a 
great many cats and dogs going in. He stood several 
minutes in doubt whether to follow up the invitation ; 
but he plucked up courage at last and entered. A | 
couple of young kittens were going on in front of him, 
and he determined to follow their lead, thinking that 
they probably knew better than he did where the 
kitchen lay. 

‘When Muck had mounted the stairs, he met the old 
woman who had screamed from the window. She 
looked at him surlily, and demanded his business. 

‘‘You just now invited everybody to come and taste 
of your porridge,”’ replied Little Muck ; ‘‘so, being very 
hungry, I accepted your invitation.” 

The old lady laughed, and said: ‘‘ You odd fellow, 
where on earth do you come from? The whole city 
knows that I cook for nobody but my darling cats, 
though sometimes; as you saw, 1 invite their friends 
from the neighborhood.” 

Muck told the old lady how hardly fate had dealt 
with him since his father’s death, and entreated her to 
let him feed to-day with her cats. The good lady, 
much moved by the open-hearted story of the little 
fellow, invited him to be her guest, and gave him abun- 
dance to eat and drink. When he had refreshed him- 
self; the lady took a long look at him, and said at 
length : 

‘Little Muck, stay with me in my service ; you shall 
have little work to do, and shall be treated well.” 

Muck, to whom the cats’ broth had given great satis- 
faction, immediately assented, and became on the spot 
the servant of Lady Ahavzi. His duties were easy, 
but peculiar. Lady Ahavzi was the owner of two cats 
and four kittens, and every morning Muck was obliged 


94 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


to comb their coats and rub them with costly oint- 
ments. If the lady went out, it was his business to 
keep guard over them; when they eat, he was to keep 
their dishes supplied with food ; and, at night, his duty 
was to lay them on silken cushions, and wrap them in 
velvet coverings. There were also several little dogs 
in the house, which he had likewise to attend to; but 
these were not so well taken care of as the cats, which 
Lady Ahavzi loved like her own children. With these 
exceptions, Muck led as solitary an existence as when 
in his father’s house ; for, not counting his mistress, he 
saw, all day long, nothing but cats and dogs. For 
some time all went well ; he had plenty to eat, and little 
to do, and the old lady appeared to be well satisfied 
with his fidelity. But the cats gradually grew mis- 
chievous. When their mistress went out, they would 
run like mad round the room, knock down the furni- 
ture, and break a great many valuable articles in their 
way ; but, as soon as they would hear her coming up 
stairs, they would creep back to their cushions, and be 
playing with their tails in the most innocent manner, as 
if nothing had happened. Lady Ahavzi would fall into 
a violent passion when she saw her goods so much 
damaged and broken, and lay all the blame on Muck, 
let him protest his innocence as much as he pleased ; 
for she believed her cats, who looked so innocent, 
sooner than her servant. 

Little Muck was much cast down at this second fail- 
ure in finding his fortune, and determined to quit Lady 
Ahavzi’s service. But as he had discovered, on his 
first journey, how miserably a man lives who has no 
money in his pocket, he resolved to obtain by some — 
means or other the wages which the old lady had often 
promised but never paid him. In Lady Ahavzi’s house 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 95 


there was one chamber which was always locked, and 
which he had never seen the inside of. While thinking 
about his wages, the thought struck him that here 
must be the place where the old lady kept her treas- 
ures; for he had often heard her bustling about in 
there, and had several times felt willing to lay down 
his life if he could only know what she was doing. But 
the door was always locked, and he could never get at 
her treasures. 

One morning, when Lady Ahavzi had gone out, one 
of the little dogs, which had always been treated negli- 
gently by his mistress, but whose friendship Muck had 
cultivated by all sorts of kind attentions, pulled at his 
wide trousers, and seemed to be making signs for 
Muck to follow him. Muck did so, and, to his sur- 
prise, the dog led him into Lady Ahavzi’s bedroom, 
and to a little door there, which he had never noticed 
before, and which he soon opened. The dog went in, 
followed by Muck, and he was mightily pleased to find 
himself in the room which had been so long the goal 
of his ambition. He sought in every direction to find 
some money, but failed. Nothing but old clothes and 
oddly-shaped vessels lay about. One of these latter 
drew his wondering attention. It was made of crystal, 
with elegantly wrought figures upon it. He took it up, 
and turned it about in all directions. But, O, horror! — 
he had not noticed that its cover was but slightly 
attached! The cover fell down, and broke into a thou- 
sand pieces. | 

Muck stood some time, paralyzed with terror. His 

_fate was decided now beyond recall; for if he did not 
run away, the old woman would strike him dead. He 
instantly formed his resolution, and only paused for a 
moment to look about for something belonging to 


96 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘Lady Ahavzi, which he might need for his journey. 
Suddenly his eyes fell on a huge pair of slippers. They 
were far from handsome, to be sure, but his own were 
too far gone for travelling in; and the very size of 
these was a recommendation, for he flattered himself 
everybody would see at once with half an eye that he 
had got beyond baby-shoes. He pulled off his own, 
therefore, and jumped into the big ones. A walking- 
stick with a handsomely-carved lion’s head on it, seemed 
to him to be standing far too idly in the corner; so he 
appropriated this, also, and hurried from the room. He 
flew to his chamber, threw on his mantle, put on his 
paternal turban, thrust his dagger into his girdle, and 
ran, as fast as his legs could carry him, out of the house 
and out of the city. Once out of the city, he continued 
to run, from terror of the old woman, till he could 
scarcely stir another step from fatigue. He had never 
run so fast before in his life, and it actually seemed as 
if he could not stop, for an invisible power appeared to 
be driving him forward. At last he noticed that this 
was owing to some mysterious property in the slippers, 
for they continued to shuffle on without a moment’s 
pause, carrying him with them. He tried to stop in 
every way, but without success; and at last, in the 
greatest desperation, he shouted to himself, as one 
speaks to a horse: ‘‘ Whoa! —O, whoa! — whoa! ”’? — 
when the slippers stopped, and Muck threw himself on 
the ground exhausted. 

His slippers delighted him immensely. He saw that 
at any rate he had gained something during his service, 
which would help him finely through the world in his 
search after fortune. In spite of his joy, however, he 
went to sleep through mere exhaustion ; for Little Muck’s 
body, having to carry so heavy a head at the top of it, 


> 
THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 97 


could not bear much fatigue. In his dreams, the little 
dog who had helped him to the slippers at Lady Ahavzi’s 
house, appeared before him, and said: ‘‘ My dear Muck, 
you do not yet fully understand the uses of your slip- 
pers; know, that you can fly wherever you please, if 
you will turn round three times on one heel; and your 
stick you can use to discover treasure, for it will strike 
thrice on the ground wherever gold is buried, and, where 
silver, twice.”?’ Thus dreamed our Little Muck. As soon 
as he awoke, he recalled to mind his singular dream, and 
determined to put it to the test as soon as possible. He 
_ pulled on the slippers, and, raising one foot in the air, 
attempted to turn round on the heel of the other. But 
whoever has tried to perform this experiment thrice in 
succession, with a very loose slipper, will not be sur- 
prised that Muck’s efforts were rather unsuccessful, 
especially when he remembers that the dwarf’s heavy 
head kept pulling him down, now on one side and now 
on the other. 

The unlucky pigmy fell heavily several times on his 
nose, but he would not allow himself to be disheartened, 
and at length success crowned his labors. He spun on 
his heel like a humming-top, wished himself in the near- 
est large city, and — the slippers mounted into the air, 
flew through the clouds like lightning, and, before Little 
Muck knew what had happened, he found himself in a 
large market-place, surrounded with open shops, and 
countless men running busily up and down. He walked 
about a little while among the people, but soon saw that 
it would be prudent to betake himself to a more retired 
street ; for in the market-place either some one would 
tread on his slippers, so as almost to throw him down, 
or he would be continually hitting somebody or other 

9 


> 


W-4 
98 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


with his long projecting dagger, so as with difficulty to 
escape being flogged. 

Little Muck pondered earnestly on what he should do 
to earn a little money. To be sure, he had a staff, which 
would point out hidden gold and silver, but where 
should he find the place where gold and silver lay hid- 
den? Should he exhibit himself for money? No; he 
was still too proud for that. At last he remembered the 
swiftness of his feet. ‘‘Perhaps,’’ he thought, ‘‘ my 
slippers can earn me a living ;’’ and he resolved to take 
service as a courier. Having reason to suppose that 
the king of the city would pay better than anybody 
else for such services, he inquired of the people in the 


_ street the way to the royal palace. Before the door 


stood a guard, the captain of which demanded his busi- 
ness; and, on his answering that he sought employ- 
ment, referred him to the superintendent of the slaves. 
On his requesting the latter to obtain him employment 
among the royal messengers, the superintendent meas- 
ured him superciliously from head to foot with his eyes, 
and replied: ‘‘ And with your little feet, scarcely a span 
long, do you expect to be made king’s messenger! Be 
off with you! I’m not here to waste time with every 
fool.”’ 

Muck assured him that his proposal was made in all 
good faith, and that he would prove it by running for a 
wager with the fastest messenger he had. The super- 
intendent thought it an excellent joke. He directed 
him to hold himself in readiness for a trial of speed 
towards evening; and, taking him to the kitchen, gave 
orders that he should be well supplied with meat and 
drink. He himself sought the king, and told him of the 
little man and his proposal. The king was a jovial fel- 
low, and was greatly tickled that the superintendent 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 99 


had retained little Muck, intending to make a butt of 
him. He commanded preparations to be made on the 
most extensive scale behind the palace, so that the race 
could be seen with ease by the entire court; and, order- 
ing the greatest care to be taken of the dwarf, sent 
immediately to inform the princes and princesses of the 
- amusing exhibition to come off that evening. These 
told it again to their suites, so that, when evening 
arrived, every one was in the highest state of expecta- 
tion, and all who had feet streamed out to the meadow, 
where scaffolds and galleries had been erected, to see 
the trial of speed of the boastful dwarf. 

When the king and his sons and daughters had taken 
their places on the platform, little Muck stepped out 
into the plain, and made a bow of great dignity and 
elegance to the assembled nobility. A universal shout 
of delight went up when the little fellow came in sight. 
Such a strange figure had never before been seen in the 
place. The little body with its prodigious head, the 
small mantle and wide trousers, the long dagger thrust 
into the girdle,—no; the spectacle was so ridiculous 
that they could not refrain from bursting into shouts 
of laughter. Little Muck, however, paid no atten- 
tion to the general roar. He leaned in a haughty atti- 
tude on his stick, and waited for his opponent. The 
superintendent had selected his swiftest runner, at 
Muck’s express request. The latter now stepped out, 
took his place near the pigmy, and both waited for the 
signal. The Princess Amarza gave the signal with her 
veil, as it had been arranged she should do, and, like a 
pair of arrows shot at the same target, our two racers 
flew over the plain. 

Muck’s adversary had at the beginning a noticeable - 
advantage ; but Muck, in his vehicular slippers, flew 


100 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


after him, overtook, and passed him, and had stood some 
time at the goal when the other, panting for breath, suc- 
ceeded in reaching it. Wonder and astonishment filled 
the spectators for several minutes, but when the king 
set the example of clapping his hands, the entire multi- 
tude shouted, in one voice: ‘‘ Long live little Muck, 
the winner of the race! ”’ 

Muck was brought before the platform. He threw 
himself on the earth before the king, and said: ‘ All- 


_ powerful sovereign, I have shown you but a very small 


example of my skill; grant me permission to take my 
place among your majesty’s runners.” 

““No,”’ replied the king, ‘“‘you shall be my private 
courier, and attached always to my person; your salary 
shall be a hundred pieces of gold, and you shall eat at 
the table of my highest servants.”’ 

Muck began to think he had found his fortune at last, 
and joy and happiness filled his heart. He enjoyed the 
especial favor of the king, who used him to carry his 
most important secret despatches; and, in the execution 
of his trust, he never failed to show the greatest accu- 
racy and the most incredible speed. 

But the rest of the king’s servants were ill-disposed 
to him, for the reason that they very unwillingly saw . 
themselves supplanted in their king’s favor by a dwarf 
who understood nothing except how to run. They 
organized, therefore, many a conspiracy to overthrow 
him ; but all their efforts failed to impair the implicit 
confidence felt by the king in his high and confidential 
private courier,— for even in this short time he had 
arrived at this high dignity. 

Muck, whose attention these plots did not escape, 


- , entertained no thoughts of revenge, for which his dispo- 


Jpition was far too good. No; he looked about for means 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 101 


to make himself beloved by and useful to his enemies. 
Suddenly he remembered his stick, which in his pros- 
perity had escaped his recollection. If he could find a 
treasure, thought he, the gentlemen would surely be 
better inclined towards him. He had often heard it 
said that his present majesty’s father had buried pro- 
digious sums, at a time when enemies had invaded his 
territories ; and people said, also, that he had subse- 
quently died without being able to divulge its place of 
concealment to his son. From this time forth, there- 
fore, Muck invariably carried his stick, in the hope, 
some time or other, of passing over the spot where the 
old king’s money lay buried. One evening, chance led 
him to a remote part of the palace-gardens, which he 
had hitherto little visited, when suddenly he felt his 
stick move in his hand, and strike three times on the 
earth. He well knew what this meant, so drawing his 
dagger he slashed the neighboring trees, and then crept 
quietly into the palace ; there he procured a spade, and 
waited for night to commence operations. 

The buried treasure gave Muck more trouble than he 
had anticipated. His arms were weak, and the spade 
was large and heavy; and he had worked at least two 
hours before he had dug to the depth of a couple of feet. 
At last his spade struck on some hard substance, which 
sounded like iron. He dug now with greater zeal, and 
soon exposed to the light of day a large iron lid. He 
jumped into the hole, to see what this lid covered, and 
sure enough he found a huge pot filled with pieces of 
gold. But his feeble strength was insufficient to lift it 
out of the hole; so he crammed into his trousers and 
girdle as much as he could carry, and, filling his cloak 
as full as it could hold, covered up the remainder with 
great care. But so much was he oppressed by the 

gx 


ign ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


weight of his gold, that, but for his magic slippers, he 
would never have succeeded in leaving the spot. He 
succeeded, however, in reaching his chamber unob- 
served, and concealed his gold under the pillows of his 
sofa. 

Finding himself the possessor of so much wealth, 
Muck now thought that his misfortunes would turn over 
a new leaf, and he would gain many patrous and warm 
adherents among his enemies at court. But, from this 
' single fact, it is obvious that Muck had never enjoyed 
the advantages of even a moderate education, for other- 
wise he never could have imagined it possible to gain 
true friends through gold. Alas! he should have bribed 
his slippers, and, with his cloak full of gold, scampered 
away as fast as they could carry him! 

The gold which littlke Muck now squandered with 
liberal hands, awakened the envy of his fellow-servants. 
The chief cook, Ahuli, swore he was a coiner. The 
overseer of the slaves declared he must have been 
cajoling the king; while Archaz, the treasurer, his bit- 
terest enemy, who had a nibble now and then at the 
king’s coffers himself, pronounced authoritatively that 
he must have stolen it. Certain at last of their game, 
they laid a plot among themselves, and Korchuz, the 
chief butler, put himself one day, with a sad and down- 
cast air, directly in the king’s way. He made his mis- 
ery so conspicuous, that the king asked him what was 
the matter. 

“Ah!” answered Korchuz, ‘I am unhappy at hav- 
ing lost the favor of my sovereign.” 

‘‘What nonsense are you talking?” replied the 
king. ‘Since when have I withdrawn from you the 
sunbeams of my favor ?”’ 

The chief butler responded that he judged he had 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 103 


forfeited his regard, because he had heaped his high and 
confidential courier with gold, and gave nothing what- 
soever to his poor and really faithful servants. 

The king was much astonished at this information, 
and made further inquiries into Little Muck’s extrava- 
gant expenditures; and the conspirators easily per- 
suaded him that Muck must have stolen the money 
from his bed-chamber. The treasurer was particularly 
delighted with the turn things had taken; as, but for 
this, he would have found considerable difficulty in 
squaring his accounts. The king gave orders to insti- 
tute a strict watch over all Muck’s movements, so as, 
if possible, to catch him in the act. 

On the very night following this unlucky day, Muck, 
seeing his liberality had much diminishéd his resources, 
took his spade and crept into the garden to procure 
fresh ammunition from his secret stores. The watch 
followed him at some distance, led by the chief cook, 
Ahuli, and Archaz the treasurer; and, at the very mo- 
ment he was piling the gold into his cloak out of the 
pot, they fell upon him, bound him fast, and dragged 
him instantly before the king. His majesty, very sav- 
age at this interruption of his slumbers, received his 
secret courier very ungraciously, and put him on his 
trial on the spot. The pot had been by this time re- 
moved from the earth, and was laid, with the shovel 
and the cloak-full of gold at the king’s feet. The treas- 
urer swore that he and his guards had surprised Muck 
just as he had finished burying the pot of gold in the 
ground. 

The king thereupon asked the accused whether this 
was a true statement, and where he had obtained the 
gold which he had buried. Little Muck, conscious of 
his innocence, declared that he had discovered the pot 


104 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


in the garden, and that, so far from burying it, he had 
dug it up. 

All present laughed contemptuously at this excuse, 
and the king shouted, his anger excited to the highest 
degree by the supposed impudence of the little dwarf: 
‘How, miserable! Do you dare so stupidly and basely 
to deceive your king, after having robbed him? Treas- 
urer Archaz, I command you to state whether you rec- 
ognize this quantity of gold for the same which is lack- 
ing from my treasury.” 

The treasurer replied that he was perfectly certain 
of what he alleged; that as much and more had been 
missing some time from the royal treasury ; and that he 
would willingly take his oath that this was the stolen 
property. : 

The king, thereupon, gave orders that Little Muck 
should be cast into chains, and conducted to the Tower ; 
and delivered the gold to the treasurer, to be again 
replaced in the treasury. Delighted with the fortunate 
turn of events, the latter carried it away, and, when at 
home, counted the glittering coins. But the wicked 
man never mentioned that at the bottom of the pot lay 
a note, which said: 

‘‘The enemy have invaded my land, for which reason 
I bury here a portion of my treasures. Whoever finds 
it shall be blasted by the curse of a king if he does not 
instantly surrender it to my son. Kine Sapt.”’ 

Little Muck, in his lonely cell, was overwhelmed by 
sad reflections. He knew that the penalty for convert- 
ing royal property was death; yet he hesitated to 
disclose the secret of his walking-stick to the king, 
justly fearing that he would be deprived immediately 
of both that and his slippers. His slippers, alas! were 
of no benefit to him in his present emergency, for he 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 105 


was fastened to the wall with short chains; and, try as 
hard as he pleased, he could not turn round on his 
heels. His sentence of death being made known to him 
on the following day, he came to the conclusion that 
it was better to live without his magic cane than die 
with it; so, craving a secret audience, he disclosed the 
mystery to the king. At first the king placed no con- 
fidence in his confession ; but, on Muck’s promising to 
give him proofs if the king would agree to spare his 
life, he assented ; and, causing some gold to be buried 
in the garden, unseen by Muck, ordered him to find “it 
with his stick. He did so in a few minutes, the stick 
striking very visibly three times against the ground. 
The king instantly saw that his treasurer had deceived 
him, and sent him, according to the custom of the East, 
a silken cord with which to strangle himself. To Little 
Muck, however, he said, ‘‘] have promised to spare 
your life, it is true; but my opinion is that this secret 
of the stick is not the only one you possess. I shall 
keep you in perpetual imprisonment, therefore, until 
you confess the mystery of your wonderful swiftness.”’ 

Muck, whose one night’s experience in the Tower 
had deprived him of all appetite for longer imprison- 
ment, admitted that his whole skill lay in his slippers, 
but did not divulge to the king the secret of turning 
three times on the heels. The king pulled on the slip- 
pers, to convince himself of their peculiar properties, 
and ran like mad round the garden. He tried to stop, 
but, not knowing the magic word, wholly without suc- 
cess; and Muck, who could not find it in his heart to 
renounce this bit of revenge, let him run till he fell down 
insensible, 

When his majesty had recovered his senses again, he 
was frightfully angry with Little Muck for having let 


106 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


him run himself so out of breath. ‘‘I have given my 
royal word,” said he, ‘‘ to grant you your life and lib- 
erty ; but I will have you hanged as high as Haman 
if you do not quit my territory within twelve hours.’ 
He ordered the slippers and the stick to be laid away 
in his bed-chamber. _ 

Unhappy little Muck left the country as poor as ever, 
cursing the folly which had induced him to think he 
could play a distinguished part at court. The kingdom 
from which he was ejected was fortunately not large, 
so he reached the boundary in eight hours, although, 
from being used to his darling slippers, he found walk- 
ing came very hard to him. 

After crossing the boundary he quitted the travelled 
road, and sought the thickest solitudes of the forest, 
feeling a hatred for all mankind. He came upon a spot 
in a dense grove, which appeared suited exactly to the 
resolution he had taken to live alone. A pure stream, 
overshadowed by large fig-trees, and a fresh, soft turf, 
invited him in, and here he threw himself down with 
the determination to take no more food, but wait till 
death relieved his woes. But his melancholy put him 
to sleep, and when he woke up, and the gnawing of 
hunger began to be felt, he remembered that death by 
famine was a dangerous matter, and he looked about to 
find something to eat. 

The trees under which he had gone to sleep were coy- 
ered with ripe figs; so he climbed up to pluck some, 
found them very toothsome, and afterwards descended 
to slake his thirst at the brook. But what was his hor- 
ror when the water showed him his head adorned with 
a pair of enormous ears and a long thick nose! He 
felt of his ears, confounded, and actually the¥ were 
more than half a yard long. 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 107 


“‘T deserve ass’s ears!’ he cried, ‘‘for I have tram- 
pled my fortune under foot like a very ass.’?’ He wan- 
dered about under the trees, and, hunger again coming 
upon him after a while, he was compelled to have re- 
course to the figs, for he could find nothing else edible. 
While reflecting, over his second dose of figs, whether 
he might not find room for his ears under his big 
turban, so as to prevent his looking so ridiculous, he 
felt that they had vanished. He ran back to the brook 
to convince himself, and, sure enough, his ears had 
regained their former size, and his long, shapeless nose 
was shapeless no more. He had now discovered the 
cause of these changes — he had obtained the long nose 
and ears from the first tree, and had banished them by 
means of the second. Perceiving with joy that his good 
destiny had once more put into his hands the means of 
happiness, he plucked as much as he could carry from 
each tree, and went directly back into the kingdom 
which he had so lately quitted. There, in the first vil- 
lage he came to, he disguised himself by a change of 
dress, and proceeded without delay to the imperial 
city. 

It was the season of the year when ripe fruits were 
still a rarity. Little Muck sat down near the palace 
gate, for he knew from formey experience that here was 
the place where such delicacies as his were purchased 
by the head cook for the royal table. Muck had sat 
there but a few minutes when he saw the head cook 
crossing the court-yard. The latter examined the wares 
of the various tradesmen*who had assembled around the 
palace gate, and at length his eyes fell on Muck’s bas- 
ket. ‘‘ Aha!’ said he, ‘‘arare luxury! What will you 
taker the whole basket ?’’? Muck named a moderate 
price, and the bargain was soon struck. The cook 


108 = ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


handed the basket to a slave and went on, and Muck 
immediately made himself scarce, for he feared lest, if 
any misfortune fell upon the head of the sovereign, they 
would hunt out and punish the seller. 

The king that day was much pleased with his dinner, 
and complimented his head cook more than once on his 
excellent cookery, and on the care with which he ever 
provided the choicest rarities ; but the latter, who knew 
what a tit-bit he had still in the background, only sim- 
pered blandly and answered oracularly, ‘‘ Evening has 
not come yet,”’ or “ All’s well that ends well ;’’ so that 
the princesses grew very curious to know what he 
intended to produce next. 

When the handsome, inviting figs made their appear- 
ance, a general ‘‘Q!”’ escaped from every one’s mouth. 
‘‘Howripe! how appetizing!” cried the king. ‘‘ Cook, 
you are a perfect jewel, and deserve our especial favor,” 
So saying, the king, who was wont to be very stingy 
of such luxuries, divided the figs round the table with 
his own hands. Each prince and princess received 
two, the court ladies and the viziers and agas, one each, 
and the rest he took to himself, and began to devour 
them with great relish. 

‘‘Good heavens, father! what makes you look so 
strangely ?’’ cried all at once the Princess Amarza. 
All gazed at the king with astonishment, for enormous 
ears hung down from his head, and a long nose ex- 
tended below his chin ; and they looked at one another 
also, with wonder and dismay, for every one was deco- 
rated more or less with the sarffe ornaments. 

Imagine the horror of the court! Surgeons and phy- 
sicians were sent for, and came in crowds; but, though 
they prescribed pills and mixtures, the noses and»ears 


THE STORY OF LITTLE MUCK. 109 


refused to decrease. An operation was performed on 
one of the princes, but his ears grew out again. © 

Muck had heard the whole story, in the hiding-place 
where he had taken refuge, and saw that now was the 
time to be up and doing. He had already procured, 
with the money obtained from the sale of his figs, a 
dress which disguised him as a professor of literature ; 
a long beard of goat’s hair completed the deception. 
He wandered into the royal palace, with a small bag full 
of his figs, and offered his services as a foreign physi- 
cian. People were at first incredulous; but, after Lit- 
tle Muck had given a fig to one of the princes to eat, 
and had restored his nose and ears to their original size, 
every one wanted to be cured by the unknown doctor. 
The king took him in silence by the hand, and led him 
into his chamber; there he opened the door leading 
into the private treasury, and motioned Muck to follow. 
‘‘ Here are my treasures,”’ said his majesty ; ‘‘ take your 
choice. It shall be yours, whatever you select, if you 
will only free me from this terrible deformity.”’ 

This was music to Little Muck’s ears. He had no- 
ticed, as he entered, his slippers lying on the floor, and 
his cane not far off standing in a corner. He made the 
circuit of the room, as if admiring the king’s treasures ; 
but, the moment he came to his slippers, he pulled them 
on, seized his cane, tore off his false beard, and showed 
to the astonished sovereign the well-known face of the 
banished Muck. ‘‘Faithless king,’’ said he, ‘‘ who 
reward the most faithful services with wicked ingrati- 
tude, take these disfigurements as a well-merited pun- 
ishment for your offences. I leave you your ears, to 
remind you daily of the ill-used Muck.’”’ So saying, he 
spun himself round rapidly on his heels, wished himself 
far away, and, before the king could find breath to call 

10 


110 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


for help, Little Muck had disappeared. Since that time 
Muck has lived in this city, in great comfort, but 
wholly alone, on account of his contempt for men. He 
has become, through age and experience, a wise gen- 
tleman, who, though his exterior may be peculiar, 
deserves your admiration rather than your ridicule. 

This was the story told me by my father. I ex- 
pressed my regrets for my thoughtless conduct towards 
the good little man, and he presented me on the spot 
with the other half of my punishment. I told my com- 
rades the dwarf’s wonderful history ; and we conceived 
so strong a regard for him that none of us ever insulted 
him again. On the contrary, we honored him as long 
as he lived, and used to bow before him as humbly as 
we did before cadi or mufti. 





The travellers resolved to spend a day at the cara- 
vansary to strengthen themselves and their animals for 
the continuation of their journey. The gayety of yes- 
terday had not yet wholly evaporated, and they amused 
themselves with all kinds of jovial games. After din- 
ner they called upon the fifth merchant, Ali Sizab, to 
pay his debt to the rest of the company by telling a 
story. He replied that his life had been altogether too 
destitute of striking events to relate any experiences of 
his own, but that he would tell them 





THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 


Once on a time there lived a respectable journeyman- 
tailor, named Labakan, who studied his trade with a 
skilful master in Alexandria. No one could truly say 
that Labakan was clumsy with his needle; on the con- 





= = - < a s oN Lae 
Pes A Oh MEP, me — eo a) pi — 
Fea Le wun pl 


MEETING OF LABAKAN & THE TRUE PRINCE. 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 111 


trary, he understood his business extremely well; and 
it would be doing him injustice, too, to call him lazy. 
Still, there was something or other not quite right about 
the lad; for although, when the fit was on him, he could - 
sew by the hour together, as no other man could, till 
his needle grew hot and his thread smoked, yet, at 
other times, — and these fits came even oftener than the 
former, —he would sit for hours lost in thought, his eyes 
fixed on vacancy, and his face wearing so strange and 
peculiar an expression, that his master and fellow- 
journeymen never spoke of this condition of his without 
calling it ‘‘ Labakan’s gentleman-fit.”’ 

On Fridays, after prayers, when other people gener- 
ally go quietly back to their work, Labakan used to 
strut out of the mosque, in a rich suit of clothes which 
a rigid economy had enabled him to purchase, and pace 
pompously through the streets and squares of the city ; 
and, if one of his comrades saluted him with ‘‘ Peace be 
with you!” or ‘‘ How goes it, friend Labakan?”’ he 
would return the courtesy by a gracious wave of the 
hand, or a benign nod of the head. Whenever his 
master said to him, jokingly, ‘“‘A prince was lost in 
you, Labakan,”’ he showed signs of great satisfaction, 
and would generally answer, ‘‘ Have you remarked it 
too ?”’ or “I have thought so myself a long while.”’ 

In this manner the skilful journeyman, Labakan, spent 
a considerable portion of his life, while his master bit- 
terly cursed his folly and vanity, for, in his right senses, 
he was a good fellow and an industrious workman. 
But one day, Selim, the sultan’s brother, who was 
passing through Alexandria, sent a dress-suit to Laba- 
kan’s master, to have some alterations made, and the 
tailor entrusted it to Labakan, as being most dexterous 
in the nicest work. That evening, when his master and 


112 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


fellow-journeymen had quitted the shop to take their 
customary recreation after the toils of the day, an irre- 
sistible impulse drove Labakan back again to the work- 
room, where the clothes of the imperial customer were 
hanging. He stood a long while before them, admiring 
now the beauty of the embroidery, now the varying 
colors of the velvet and the silk. He could not resist 
his desire to try them on ; he did so, and, to his delight, 
they fitted him, as if made expressly to his measure. 

“Why am I not as good a prince as another?” 
he asked himself, strutting up and down the room. 
‘Has n’t master himself often said that I was born 
to be a prince?’”’ Our journeyman seemed to have 
assumed with the clothes a regal tone of thought. He 
could not persuade himself that he was not some scion 
of royalty, and, in this belief, resolved to travel into the 
world, and abandon a place where the people had so 
stupidly refused to recognize his noble origin. The 
splendid dress seemed to him to have been sent by 
some benevolent fairy; so, warning himself against 
despising so valuable a gift, he collected his little ready 
cash, and, favored by the darkness of night, wandered, 
without definite purpose, from Alexandria’s gates. 

The new prince excited everywhere the greatest 
curiosity, for his superb dress and his grave, majestic 
aspect seemed wholly unsuited to a pedestrian trav- 
eller. When questioned concerning this, he would 
answer, with a mysterious air, that he had secret but 
excellent motives for this apparent inconsistency. 

Perceiving, however, that he exposed himself to ridi- 
cule by travelling on foot, he procured, for a trifling 
sum, an old horse, exactly suited to his requirements ; 
for, being of unvarying gentleness and steadiness of 
demeanor, the animal never embarrassed him by draw- 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 113 


ing too largely on his equestrian skill, — that being an 
accomplishment which his previous habits of life had 
hitherto compelled him to neglect. 

One day, while riding slowly on Murva, — for so he 
called his steed, —a horseman joined him, requesting 
permission to travel in his company, as the length of 
the road would be much shortened by conversation. 
The rider was a young man of agreeable and taking 
address. He had soon compared notes with Labakan 
on the whither and the whence of their journey, and it 
came out that he too, like the tailor, was entering the 
world, without previous preparation for its trials. He 
said that his name was Omar; that he was the nephew 
of Elfi Bey, the unfortunate Pasha of Cairo, and that he 
was now travelling to fulfil a behest which his uncle 
had given him on his death-bed. Labakan was much 
less communicative upon his own affairs, but gave him 
to understand that his own origin was still higher than 
the stranger’s, and that he was travelling for his mere 
pleasure. 

The two young gentlemen found each other’s society 
agreeable, and went on together. On the second day 
of their union of forces, Labakan inquired of his com- 
panion, Omar, what the behest was which he had under- 
taken to fufil; and, to his astonishment, received for 
answer, ‘‘ that Elfi Bey, the Pasha of Cairo, had brought 
up Omar from his earliest infancy, and that the latter 
had never known his parents. When the Bey, over- 
powered by his enemies, had been compelled to retreat 
after three unsuccessful battles, mortally wounded, he 
disclosed to his adopted child that he was not his 
nephew, as he supposed, but the son of a powerful 
sovereign, who, alarmed by the prognostications of his 
astrologers had removed the young prince from his 

10* 


114 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


court, and had bound the pasha by an oath to restore 
him again on his two-and-twentieth birthday. Elfi Bey 
had not imparted to him the name of his father, but had 
directed him to betake himself, on the fourth day of 
the month Ramadan, at which time he would be 
twenty-two years old, to the famous pillar El-Serujah, 
four days’ journey from Alexandria; that there he 
should deliver a certain dagger to the men he would 
find standing by the column, with these words: ‘ Here 
am I whom you seek;’ and that, if they answered, 
‘Glory be to the Prophet, who has presefved thee!’ 
he should follow them, and they would conduct him to 
his father.”’ 

Labakan was greatly impressed by this communi- 
cation, and henceforth looked on Prince Omar with 
envious eyes, indignant that fate should confer on him 
the dignity of royal birth, having already blessed him 
with the rank of nephew to a powerful pasha; while on 
himself, as if in scorn of the princely qualities which 
adorned his mind, he had bestowed a doubtful origin 
and an obscure life. He instituted comparisons between 
himself and the prince. He could not but admit that 
the latter was a person of a very attractive appearance, 
having handsome, flashing eyes, a well-arched nose, 
and a soft, obliging manner; in short, every external 
attraction, which a man could desire, was undeniably 
his. Yet, whatever the graces he found in his compan- 
ion, he argued to himself that a Labakan would have 
proved afar more acceptable son and heir to the old 
sovereign than the genuine prince. 

These reflections tormented Labakan the whole day, 
and pervaded his dreams by night ; but when morning 
broke, and his glance fell on the sleeping Omar, repos- 
ing so peacefully, and dreaming perhaps of his certain 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 115 


fortunes, his mind conceived the idea of obtaining, by 
fraud or force, what cruel fate had refused to bestow 
voluntarily. He softly drew out the dagger from 
the sleeper’s girdle,—the proof of the identity of 
the homeward-bound prince,—to plunge it into the 
breast of its owner. But his unwarlike soul shrunk 
before the thought of murder; so he satisfied himself 
with slipping the dagger through his own girdle, and 
causing the prince’s more powerful horse to be saddled 
in place of his own; and before Omar had waked to dis- 
cover himself robbed of all his hopes, his faithless com- 
rade had already obtained a start of several miles. 

It was the first day of the sacred month Ramadan 
when Labakan committed this robbery, and he had still 
four days in which to reach the pillar of El-Serujah. 
Although the place where this pillar stood was at most 
two days’ journey distant, he hurried forward as rapidly 
as he could, dreading constantly to be overtaken by the 
true prince. 

Towards the close of the following day Labakan’s 
eyes rested on the pillar of El-Serujah. It stood ona 
little elevation in the midst of an extensive plain, and 
could be seen at the distance of two or three leagues. 
Labakan’s heart beat loudly. Although he had had 
during the last two days abundant time to reflect on 
the part he was about to play, yet his evil conscience 
made him timid; but, on the other hand, the belief that 
he was born to be a prince encouraged him, so that he 
went on to the place of meeting with a certain degree 
of confidence. 

The country round the pillar of El-Serujah was barren 
and unfrequented, and the new prince would have been 
much embarrassed on the score of provisions, had he 
not brought with him a supply for several days. He 


116 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


lay down, therefore, near his horse, under some palms, 
and awaited anxiously his approaching fate. 

Towards the middle of the second day he saw a long 
train of horses and camels approaching the pillar of El- 
Serujah across the plain. It halted at the foot of the 
hill, where handsome tents were soon erected, and the 
whole looked like the escort of some wealthy pasha or 
sheik. Labakan’s heart whispered that the multitude 
before him had all come hither on his account, and he 
longed to show them instantly their future master; but 
he restrained his inclination to play the prince, con- 
scious that the next morning his wildest hopes were to 
be more than realized. 

The morning sun awoke the fortunate tailor to the 
most important moment of his life; one which was 
about to raise him from the humblest condition to 
equality with royalty itself. To be sure, as he saddled 
his horse to ride to the pillar, the thought occurred to 
him of the dishonesty of his conduct; and imagination 
pictured the misery of the prince defrauded of his birth- 
right. But the die was cast ; he could not now recede ; 
and vanity whispered that his appearance was suffi- 
ciently regal to sustain his claim to relationship with 
the greatest king on earth. Encouraged by this reflec- 
tion, he climbed into the saddle, and, summoning all 
his courage, urged his horse to a respectable gallop, 
and reached the foot of the hill in a few moments. 
Here he dismounted, and, fastening his horse to a 
shrub, of which several grew on the hill, and drawing 
out Prince Omar’s dagger, commenced his ascent. Six 
men were standing, at the foot of the pillar, around a 
gray-beard of kingly aspect ; a gorgeous caftan of cloth 
of gold, girded about by a white Cashmere shawl, and 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 117 


a snowy turban adorned with precious stones, showed 

him to be a person of great wealth and dignity. 
Lakakan approached him, and said, with a deep rev- 

erence, holding out the dagger: ‘‘Here am I, whom 


you seek.”’ 
‘Glory be to the Prophet who has preserved thee !’’ 
answered the aged man, shedding tears of joy. ‘‘ Em- 


brace your father, my beloved son Omar.” 

The valiant tailor was much affected by these im- 
pressive words, and, with mingled feelings of joy and 
shame, sank into the arms of the aged king. 

He enjoyed unalloyed, however, only for a moment, 
the luxury of his new rank. As he raised himself from 
the arms of the princely stranger, he saw a horseman 
hastening across the plain towards the hill. Both rider 
and horse presented a singular appearance. The steed, 
either from obstinacy or weariness, seemed reluctant to 
move, and came on with a stumbling gait which resem- 
bled neither a walk nor a trot, the rider, meanwhile, 
constantly trying to accelerate his progress with hand 
and heel. Labakan recognized, with a sinking heart, his 
horse Murva, and the true Prince Omar; but the Evil 
Spirit of Lies held sway in his breast, and he resolved, 
whatever the result, to insist with a brazen front on 
his pretended claims. 

The horseman had been seen for some time gesticu- 
lating fiercely as he approached, and had by this time 
reached the foot of the hill, in spite of Murva’s misera- 
ble gait. Throwing himself from the saddle, he rushed 
up to the top. ‘‘Stop!’’ he shouted; ‘‘ whoever you 
may be, be not deceived by that impudent impostor. 
I am Omar, and let no mortal dare to arrogate my 
name! ”’ 

Profound astonishment came across the faces of the 


118 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


by-standers at this strange turn of events. The old 
king, especially, seemed utterly confounded, and looked 
inquiringly from one to the other. Labakan, with a 
desperate attempt at composure, said to him: ‘ Most 
gracious lord and father, let not this man’s statement 
occasion you doubt. He is, I believe, a crazy, half- 
witted journeyman-tailor, from Alexandria, named Lab- 
akan, and deserves our compassion rather than our 
anger.” 

This impudent statement drove the true prince nearly 
to madness. Foaming with rage, he was about to 
throw himself upon Labakan, when the by-standers 
interposed, and held him fast, and the old king said to 
his pretended son: ‘‘The poor man is mad indeed. Let 
him be bound, and placed on one of our dromedaries. 
Perhaps we can render some assistance to the unhappy 
creature.’’ 

The wrath of the prince subsided at these words, and 
he exclaimed, with many tears: ‘‘ My heart tells me 
that you are my father, sire. I implore you, by the 
memory of my mother, listen to me.”’ 

‘God forbid!’ answered the latter. ‘‘ He is begin- 
ning to rave again. How can the poor fellow have 
come by such crazy notions!’’ Saying this, and taking 
Labakan’s arm, he descended the hill with the impostor, 
and both, mounting handsome, richly-decorated horses, 
rode across the plain to the head of the escort. The 
guards tied the hands of the unfortunate prince behind 
his back, bound him firmly on a dromedary, and a 
couple of horsemen remained constantly by his side, 
keeping a watchful eye on his every motion. 

This old sovereign was Saand, Sultan of the Wecha- 
bites. He had lived childless a long time, but had been 
made happy at last by the arrival of what he had been 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 119 


longing for so earnestly. But the astrologers, whom 
he had interrogated concerning the fate of his son, had 
answered, ‘‘that he stood in danger, till his two-and- 
twentieth year, of being displaced by an enemy.’’ 
Wherefore, for greater safety, the sultan had confided 
his son to the care of his long-tried friend, Elfi Bey, and 
for twenty-two sorrowful years had been waiting for his 
restoration. 

The sultan told all this to his pretended son, show- 
ing, by his incessant caresses, his high satisfaction in 
the handsome exterior and graceful demeanor of his 
heir. 

When they reached the sultan’s kingdom, they were 
everywhere received with shouts of joy by the delighted 
inhabitants, for the rumor of the prince’s return had 
spread through all the towns and villages like wildfire. 
Triumphal arches of flowers and branches spanned the 
streets through which the procession passed ; hangings 
of varied colors decorated every house; and the people 
glorified God and his Prophet for having sent them so 
handsome a youth to be their prince. All these events 
filled the tailor’s conceited heart with rapture ; but they 
made the real Omar feel all the more miserable, as, still 
in chains and sunk in the deepest despair, he followed 
in the rear of the cavalcade. Amid the universal rejoic- 
ings, no one paid him the least attention. Thousands 
of voices shouted the name of Omar; but he to whom 
the name belonged was left abandoned and unhappy. 
If, by the merest chance, some man inquired of his 
guards who was the prisoner they held so tightly 
bound, his ear was shocked by the answer of his keep- 
ers, that ‘‘it was a crazy tailor.”’ 

The cavalcade came at last to the sultan’s capital, 
where a still more splendid reception had been prepared 


120 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


for them. The sultana, an aged and venerable lady, 
was waiting, with all the court, in the magnificent hall 
of the imperial palace. The floor was spread with a 
vast carpet, and the walls were draped with cloth of a 
heavenly blue, suspended by golden cords and loops 
from massive hooks of silver. 

It was dark when the procession reached the palace, 
and the hall was lighted by countless colored lamps, 
rivalling in brilliancy the light of day. The illumina- 
tion was brightest and gayest at the end of the apart- 
ment, where the sultana was seated on her throne. 
The throne was elevated on four steps, and was covered 
with heavy plates of pure gold, adorned with amethysts. 
Four emirs, of the highest rank, held a canopy over the 
sultana’s head, and the Sheik of Medina protected her 
from the heat with a fan of peacock’s feathers. 

In this regal state the sultana was waiting for the 
arrival of her husband and her son. Like the sultan, 
she had never seen him since his birth; but many a life- 
like dream had convinced her that she would recognize 
her darling son among a thousand. 

The sounds of the approaching cavalcade now fell 
upon the ear. Trumpets and drums mingled with the 
rejoicings of the crowd; the noise of horses’ feet sound- 
ed in the court-yard of the palace; nearer and nearer 
echoed the footsteps of the approaching multitude, and, 
the doors of the vast hall flying open, the sultan hast- 
ened through the circle of prostrate courtiers, leading 
his supposed son by the hand, to the throne of the ex- 
pectant mother. 

“‘T bring you,”’ said he, “ your child, whom you have 
yearned after so many years.”’ 

The sultana interrupted him: “That is not my son,” 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 121 


_she cried. ‘Those are not the features which the 
Prophet has shown me in my dreams !”’ 

Reproaches for her incredulity had not yet passed 
the sultan’s lips, when the. door of the hall flew open. 
Prince Omar rushed in, pursued by his guards, whom 
he had overpowered for a moment by a desperate exer- 
tion of strength, and threw himself breathless at the 
foot of the throne. ‘‘ Here will I die,’’ he cried, “‘ if it 
be your will, cruel father; for I can bear this disgrace 
no longer!” 

The audience were confounded, and crowded around 
the unfortunate prince; and the guards, who had by 
this time overtaken him, were on the point of seizing 
and binding him a second time, when the sultana, who 
had witnessed the scene in speechless astonishment, 
sprang from the throne. ‘ Stop!’’ she shrieked. ‘This 
one, and no other, is my true son! This one is he 
whom my heart has known, though my eyes have never 
see his face.’’ 

The guards shrunk back involuntarily ; but the sul- 
tan, on fire with contemptuous anger, called on them to 
bind the madman. ‘It is mine to command here!”’ he 
shouted, in an imperious voice. ‘“ We follow, here, not 
woman’s dreams, but sure and absolute evidence. This 
one,’’? pointing to Labakan, ‘‘is my son; for he has 
brought the dagger of my ally, Elfi.” 

“He stole it!’’ cried Omar. ‘‘He made a treach- 
erous use of my unsuspecting confidence.” 

The sultan paid no attention to his son’s words, for 
he was wont to follow his own judgment despotically 
in all matters, and ordered the unhappy Omar to be 
dragged from the hall. He then retired with Labakan 
to his own apartments, filled with wrath against the 

EE 


122 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


sultana, with whom, till this moment, he had lived for 
fifty years in peace and love. 

The sultana was overcome with distress, for she was 
certain a traitor had crept into the sultan’s heart. Too 
many vivid dreams had shown her the features of her 
absent son, to permit her to be deceived by the pre- 
tences of an impostor. 

When the poignancy of her sorrow had somewhat 
moderated, she set about devising means by which to 
convince the sultan of his error. It was an undertaking 
of extreme difficulty ; for the traitor, who pretended to 
be her son, had not only exhibited the dagger, the 
proof of his identity, but, also, as she learned, had been 
able to recount as his own so much of Omar’s previous 
life, that he was enabled to play his part without risk 
of detection. 

She summoned to her presence the men who had 
accompanied the sultan to the pillar of El-Serujah, to 
obtain accurate information of the circumstances of that 
meeting, and then took counsel as to her course with 
the attendants, who enjoyed her especial confidence. 
One plan after another was offered and rejected; but, 
finally, Melechsalah, a shrewd old maid-of-honor, took 
her turn to speak. 

“If I have heard the story correctly, gracious mis- 
tress, the impostor declares that the name of him you 
claim to be your son is Labakan, a crazy tailor? ”’ 

‘You are right,’”’ answered the sultana; “ but wiiat 
hopes do you draw from that circumstance ? ”’ 

““Why may not this traitor,’? continued the other, 
‘“‘have given your son his own name? And, if this be 
the fact, there is an excellent means to detect the im- 
postor, which I will communicate to you in secret.” 

The sultana stepped aside, and the lady whispered in 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 123 


her ear the plan she had devised. It seemed to please 
her mistress so much, that she made immediate prepara- 
tions to visit the sultan. 

The sultana was a judicious lady, who knew perfectly 
well the sultan’s weak side, and understood how to take 
advantage of it. She assumed an appearance of sub- 
mission, and a readiness to acknowledge. her son, and 
craved only the favor of a single test. The sultan, who 
regretted already his anger towards his wife, granted 
the favor, and she said : 

‘I should like to obtain from both candidates a 
proof of their dexterity. Some persons, perhaps, would 
require them to ride, or fight, or throw the javelin. But 
no; I will give them something which shall test their 
manual skill. It is this: each of them shall make a 
caftan and a pair of trousers, and we shall see at once 
who succeeds the best.” 

The sultan replied, with a laugh: ‘‘ My dear, your 
suggestion is admirable! What! my son contest, with 
your crazy tailor, which can make the best caftan? No; 
I refuse my consent to a test like that.” 

The sultana urged, however, that he had previously 
assented to her request, and the sultan at length yield- 
ed, for he was a man of his word; although he swore, 
that, let the mad tailor make his caftan never so well, 
he could never be persuaded to acknowledge him as 
his son. 

The sultan went in person to his pretended son, and 
directed him to yield without opposition to his mother’s 
whim, telling him she had an invincible desire to see a 
caftan of his own manufacture. The heart of the excel- 
lent Labakan laughed for joy ; if that were all that was 
required, he thought to himself, the sultana shall soon 
be satisfied.” 


124 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


Two chambers were soon made ready, in which the 
rivals were to prove their respective skill, and scissors, 
needles and thread, were provided in ample quantities. 

The sultan felt great curiosity to see the caftan 
his son would exhibit as his handiwork, while the heart 
of the sultana throbbed with equal anxiety for the suc- 
cessful issue of her experiment. Two days the rivals 
devoted to their work; on the third the sultan sum- 
moned his queen, and, on her appearance, sent to the two 
rooms to fetch out the caftans and their makers. Labakan 
came forth with a triumphant air, and spread his caftan 
before the astonished eyes of the sultan. ‘‘ Look, 
father,’”’ said he, ‘‘look, my honored mother, is not this 
garment a master-piece? I will lay a wager with the 
most accomplished tailor in the city that he cannot 
produce a better one.”’ 

The sultana laughed, and turned to Omar. ‘ And 
what have you to show us, my son?” said she. Omar 
threw his cloth and scissors scornfully on the floor. 
‘‘T was taught to guide a horse and wield a sabre,”’ said 
he, ‘‘and to strike my lance into the target at fifty 
paces. Of the use of the needle I know nothing, and 
such knowledge would be unworthy a foster child of 
Elfi Bey.’’ 

‘©Q, true son of my lord!” cried the sultana. ‘‘ Ah, 
that I might be permitted to embrace you, and call 
you my son! Pardon, my lord and husband,’ said 
she, turning to the sultan, ‘for having used this arti- 
fice. Are you still blind as to which is the prince, and 
which the tailor? On my honor, the caftan your son 
has made is magnificent, and I should like to ask him 
of what master he has learned his trade.’’ 

The sultan sat in deep thought, looking alternately 
from the sultana to Labakan, while the latter sought 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 125 


desperately to conquer his confusion at having betrayed 
himself so foolishly. ‘‘ This test is not sufficient,” said 
the sultan at length; ‘“‘but, Allah be praised, I know a 
sure method by which I can find out whether I am 
deceived or not.” 

He ordered his fleetest steed to be brought out, and 
rode to a forest which stood at no great distance from 
the city. There, rumor said, dwelt a good fairy, named 
Adolzaide, who had often assisted with her advice the 
sovereigns of his race. Thither the sultan hurried. 

In the middle of the forest was an open space, over- 
hung by lofty cedars. Tradition said that here the fairy 
dwelt, and mortal man rarely ventured to approach the 
place ; for from time immemorial an aversion towards it 
had been bequeathed from father to son among the 
people. 

Arrived at this spot, the sultan dismounted, and, 
tying his horse to a tree, took his position in the cen- 
tre, and cried in aloud voice: ‘‘Ifit be true, that you 
have given good counsel to my ancestors in their hour 
of need, despise not now the petition of their descend- 
ant, but advise him to-day on a point too difficult for 
the short-sightedness of human understanding.” 

He had scarcely spoken the last words, when one of 
the cedars opened, and a veiled female figure, in long 
white robes, stepped forth. ‘‘I know wherefore you are 
come, Sultan Saand; your wish is honorable, and my 
assistance shall be faithful. Take these two boxes. 
Let those who claim to be your sons select between 
them. He, whose claim is just, will make the right 
decision.” Saying these words, she gave him two 
little ivory boxes, richly adorned with pearls and gold ; 
on the lids, which the sultan attempted in vain to open, 
were inscriptions inlaid in numerous small diamonds. 

1 ag 


126 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


The sultan tried to imagine, while riding home, what 
there could possibly be in these boxes, which, spite of 
every effort, he could not succeed in opening. The 
inscriptions threw no light whatever on the matter, for 
on one was, ‘‘ Honor and Glory,’’ on the other, ‘‘ Hap- 
piness and Riches.’’ The sultan confessed that the 
choice would be difficult, even to himself, to decide 
between two things so equally attractive. 

Arriving at his palace, he ordered the sultana to be 
summoned, and disclosed to her the fairy’s declaration ; 
and a wonderful assurance filled her heart that the youth 
to whom her affections were so strongly drawn would 
make the choice which would prove to a certainty his 
royal birth. 

Two tables were placed before the sultan’s throne, 
on which the sultan set the ivory boxes with his own 
hand. He then ascended the throne, and signed to a 
slave to throw open the doors of the hall. A splendid 
assemblage of pashas and emirs of the empire, whom 
the sultan had invited, streamed at once through the 
opened portals, and took their seats on magnificent 
cushions, ranged along the walls of the apartment. 

After all were seated, the sultan signed a second 
time, and Labakan was brought in. He crossed the 
hall with a haughty step, and, throwing himself on his 
knees before the throne, said: ‘‘ What is my lord and 
father’s will ? ”’ 

The sultan rose from his throne, and replied: ‘‘ My 
son, doubts have been thrown on the justice of your 
pretensions to this title; one of these boxes contains 
the proof of your true origin ; choose between them. I 
doubt not you will choose the right.”’ 

Labakan rose from the ground, and walked to the 
tables. After hesitating long over which he should 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 127 


select, he said to the sultan: ‘‘ Most honored father, 
what can be higher than the happiness of being your 
son; what nobler than the riches of your favor? I 
choose the box inscribed ‘ Happiness and Riches.’ ”’ 

‘We will learn shortly whether your choice be wise,’’ 
said the sultan, signing to his slaves. ‘‘ Take your seat 
for the present on the cushion near the Pasha of 
Medina.”’ 

Omar was now brought in. His look was gloomy, 
his air was sad, and his appearance excited universal 
sympathy among the audience. He threw himself down 
at the foot of the throne, and inquired the sultan’s 
will. 

The sultan explained to him that he must choose 
between the boxes. He rose and approached the 
table. 

Having read attentively the two inscriptions, he said : 
‘‘The events of the last few days have taught me how 
insecure is happiness, how transitory are riches; but 
they have also shown me that an imperishable treasure, 
Honor, dwells in the heart of the brave, and that the 
radiant star of Glory survives the loss of Happiness. 
Though thereby I renounce a crown, the die is cast; 
and, ‘ Honor and Glory,’ I take you as my choice! ”’ 

He put his hand on the box which he had chosen ; 
but, commanding him to wait, the sultan made a sign to 
Labakan, and the latter likewise placed his hand on the 
object of his selection. 

The sultan caused a basin to be brought, filled with 
water from the sacred fountain Zemzem, in Mecca, and, 
washing his hands, turned his face to the east, and, 
throwing himself on his knees, uttered the following 
prayer: ‘‘O God, my Father! Thou who for cen- 
turies hast preserved my race from stain or dishonor, 


128 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


suffer not now an impostor to disgrace the name of the 
Abassides ; but be near, O God, to my true son, in this 
his hour of trial.’’ 

The sultan descended from his throne. A common 
expectation held the assemblage motionless ; scarcely a 
breath was drawn, and even a mouse could have been 
- heard to cross the hall, so silent and intent were the 
spectators of this curious scene. Those behind stretched 
forward to see the boxes over the heads of those in 
front. The sultan said: ‘Open the boxes!’ and these, 
which hitherto no strength could move, now flew open 
of their own accord. 

In the box which Omar had selected, lay on a velvet 
cushion a tiny golden crown and sceptre; in that of 
Labakan —a huge needle and a morsel of thread. The 
sultan commanded them to bring the boxes to him. 
He took the little crown into his hand, and, wonderful 
to relate, as he held it, it grew larger and larger, till 
it had reached the dimensions of a real diadem. He 
set it on the head of his son Omar, who knelt before 
him, and, kissing his forehead, assigned him a seat at 
his right hand. Then, turning to Labakan, he said: 
‘« An old proverb says, Let the cobbler stick to his last: 
it seems you are to stick to your needle. You have 
not deserved my favor, but my mercy has _ been 
implored for you by one whom, to-day, I can deny 
nothing. I grant you, therefore, your miserable life ; 
but, if you are well advised, you will make haste to get 
beyond the boundaries of my empire.”’ 

Mortified, annihilated as he was, the poor tailor could 
make no reply. He threw himself at the feet of the 
prince, with tears streaming from his eyes. ‘‘Can you 
forgive me, prince ?’’ he said. 

‘Faith towards a friend, forgiveness towards a foe, 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 129 


is the motto of the Abassides,” replied the prince, rais- 
ing him from the floor ; ‘‘ depart in peace.’’—‘‘ OQ, my 
true, my real son!” sobbed the sultana, sinking on his 
breast. The emirs and pashas, and all the grandees of 
the empire, rose from their seats, and shouted with one 
voice, ‘‘ Hail to our future sovereign!’ and, amid the 
universal rejoicings, Labakan, his box under his arm, 
slunk from the hall. 

He descended to the sultan’s stables, and, saddling his 
old horse, Murva, rode through the city gates towards 
Alexandria. His entire prince’s life seemed to him a 
dream, and the splendid box, brilliant with pearls and 
diamonds, alone remained to prove the reality of what 
he had gone through. 

He reached Alexandria at last; and, riding to the 
house of his former master, he dismounted at the door, 
tied his horse to a post, and went into the workshop. 
The master, not recognizing him, made him a humble 
obeisance, and inquired in what way he could be of 
service ; but when, ona nearer examination, he recog- 
nized his former journeyman, he shouted for his 
apprentices and pupils, and all, falling like madmen on 
poor Labakan, who had anticipated no such reception, 
thumped and pounded him with flat-irons and yard- 
sticks, pricked him with needles, and nipped him with 
sharp scissors, till he fell down at length on a heap 
of old clothes, exhausted with pain and terror. 

While he lay there his master accused him fiercely 
of stealing the imperial dress-suit. In vain did Laba- 
kan assert that he had returned home to prove his 
innocence ; in vain did he offer to replace its value three- 
fold; the master and his apprentices fell upon him 
again, and, after beating him savagely, threw him out 
of doors into the street. Bruised and wounded, he 


130 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


mounted Murva, and rode to a caravansary. There, 
laying down his weary, aching head, he reflected on the 
miseries of this world, the mistaken merits of men, and 
the transitoriness of all earthly blessings. He went to 
sleep at last with a resolution to renounce ambition, 
and to become a respectable, obscure, steady-going 
citizen. 

Nor did he repent of his determination when he 
waked the next morning, for the heavy hands of his 
master and the apprentices seemed to have driven 
all ambitious notions out of him. 

He sold his box to a jeweller for a large sum, and, 
buying himself a house, opened a workshop for the 
prosecution of his former business. When he had put 
everything in order, and had hung out a sign with the 
inscription, ‘‘ Lapaxan, Taitor,’’ over his window, he 
set himself down, and began to mend, with the needle 
and thread he had found in the ivory box, the coat 
which his master had so disastrously ill-treated. He 
was called away from his work for a moment, and 
what was his amazement, on returning to his shop, to 
see the needle sewing busily on by itself, plying its 
trade in the most industrious manner, and making 
fine, delicate, elegant stitches, such as Labakan in 
his most skilful moments could never hope to rival! 

Truly, even the smallest gift of a benevolent fairy 
is advantageous and valuable! But we have not 
mentioned all the good qualities of this precious 
donation ; for, let the needle be as industrious as it 
pleased, the thread possessed the additional recommend- 
ation of never giving out. 

Labakan obtained many customers, and was before 
many months the most celebrated tailor of the time. 
His habit was to cut out the clothes and take one stitch 


THE STORY OF THE FALSE PRINCE. 131 


_with his magic needle, and instantly the little journey- 
man would labor on, without a moment’s intermission, 
till the job was done. Master Labakan had soon the 
whole city for his customers, for he did his work well, 
and at a remarkably reasonable price. One thing only 
did the good people of Alexandria shake their heads 
over, namely, that he worked without a single assistant, 
and with his doors invariably closed. 

The motto of the ivory box, ‘‘ Happiness and Riches,”’ 
was thus fulfilled. Happiness and riches accompanied 
the steps of the good tailor, though in a different way 
from what he had once looked for; and when he heard 
of the glory of the young Sultan Omar, — when he heard » 
that this hero was the pride of his subjects, and the ter- 
ror of his enemies, — the former prince thought to him- 
self: ‘‘It is much better for me that I have remained a 
“tailor, for honor and glory are very dangerous things.” 
So Labakan lived, contented with himself, and respected 
by his fellow-townsmen ; and if the needle has not lost 
its cunning, it is doubtless sewing away still with the 
endless thread of the benevolent fairy Adolzaide. 





The caravan broke up its encampment at sunset, and 
soon arrived at Birket el Had, or the pilgrim’s brook, 
which is distant only three leagues’ journey from Cairo. 
The caravan had been expected about this time, and the 
merchants soon had the pleasure of seeing their friends 
coming out from Cairo to meet them. They entered the 
city through the gate Bebel Falch, it being considered a 
favorable omen to enter by this gate on arriving from 
Mecca, because the Prophet himself had once passed 
through it. 

The four Turkish merchants parted from the stranger 
and the Greek Zaleukos in the market-place, and went 


132 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


to their respective homes with their friends. Zaleukos 
showed the stranger a good caravansary, and invited 
him to dine. The latter accepted the invitation, and 
promised to make his appearance as soon as he had 
- changed his travel-stained garments. 

The Greek made every preparation to receive the 
stranger, whom he had learned to love warmly during 
the journey, and, when the materials had been suitably 
arranged for the dinner, sat down to wait for his guest. 

He soon heard him approaching through the entry 
leading to the chamber, and rose politely to welcome 
him on the threshold; but, on the opening of the door, 
he started back with horror, for the long-remembered, 
terrible purple mantle was seen entering the room. He 
glanced at the figure once more, to assure himself that 
he was under no delusion; but he could feel no doubt. 
The same lofty, commanding figure; the mask through - 
which his dark eyes gleamed brightly ; the purple man- 
tle with the gold embroidery ; all these were only too 
deeply impressed on his recollection by the most dread- 
ful experiences of his life. 

Conflicting emotions strove in Zaleukos’ breast. He 
had long since forgiven this phantom of his memory, 
yet its appearance here opened afresh all his deep but 
healing wounds. Those terrible hours of agony, and 
that sorrow which had poisoned the fountain of his life, 
passed in the flight of an instant across his soul. 

‘What seek you, terrible being?’ cried the Greek 
to the motionless figure on the threshold. ‘‘ Vanish, or 
I curse you!” 

‘“‘ Zaleukos!’’ spoke a familiar voice behind the mask. 
‘‘Zaleukos! Is it thus you receive your invited guest?” 

The speaker removed his mask and threw back his 
mantle — it was the strange traveller, Selim Baruch. 


SEQUEL OF THE SEVERED HAND. 133 


It was long before Zaleukos became calm; he still 
shuddered at the presence of the stranger; for he had 
recognized in him too distinctly the Unknown of the 
Ponte Vecchio. At length, long habits of hospitality 
prevailed, and he motioned silently to his guest to be 
seated at the table. 

‘‘T know your thoughts,” said the stranger, taking 
his seat, ‘‘ for your eyes have an inquiring gaze. 
Friend, I ought, perhaps, to have buried the past in 
profound silence, and never again dared to enter your 
presence ; but, owing you a greater recompense than you 
have yet received, I have ventured, at the risk of receiv- 
ing your bitter curse, to appear once more before you 
in my former guise. You said to me once: ‘The relig- 
ion of my fathers commands me to love him ; and besides 
he is more unfortunate than I.’ dt is indeed so, my 
friend ; listen to my exculpation : 

‘“‘T must begin far back, to make my story intelligible. 
I was born in Alexandria, of Christian parents. My 
father, the younger son of an ancient and distinguished 
French family, was the consul of that nation at Alex- 
andria. I was brought up from my tenth year in France, 
at the house of my mother’s brother, and left it for the 
first time, some years after the commencement of the 
revolution, for the purpose of seeking a refuge with my 
uncle, who was no longer safe in his own country, at 
the residence of my parents beyond the sea. We landed 
from the ship, full of the hope of finding in my father’s 
house that peace and tranquillity which the frantic pop- 
ulace had robbed us of in France. But, alas! the tran- 
quillity of my home had been destroyed forever. The 
external tempests of those stormy times had, it is true, 
not yet extended to our quiet city; but affliction had 
fallen with the deadlier force on the hearts of my kin- 

12 


Pe 


134 . ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


dred. My brother, a youth of great promise and my 
father’s principal secretary, had married, some little 
time previously, a lovely girl, the daughter of a Floren- 
tine nobleman residing in our neighborhood. Only two 
days before our arrival she had suddenly disappeared, 
and neither our family nor her own could find the faint- 
est trace of her existence. We decided at last that she 
had wandered too far away in one of her walks, and had 
fallen into the hands of robbers. To my unhappy 
brother this belief was, if possible, less painful than 
the true explanation of her disappearance, which shortly 
came to our knowledge. The faithless wife had fled 
with a young Neapolitan whom she had known at her 
father’s house. Driven to fury by this discovery, my 
brother made every effort to bring his guilty bride to 
punishment; but m vain. His attempts, which had 
excited attention in Florence and Naples, served only 
to complete the destruction of our family. The Floren- 
tine noble travelled back to his native country, on the 
pretext of seeking justice for my unhappy brother, but 
in fact to effect our ruin. He- succeeded in defeating 
the inquiries which my brother had instituted, and used 
so skilfully his great influence, acquired by every art at 
his command, that my father and brother came to be 
suspected by their government, were taken prisoners 
by the basest treachery, carried in chains to France, 
and there met their deaths at the hand of the execu- 
tioner. My poor mother lost her reason, and not till 
ten weary months had passed did death release her 
from her dreadful sufferings. Thus was I left, at last, 
friendless in the world; and but one idea occupied my 
soul, one purpose caused me to forget my misery. It 
was the consuming flame of revenge which my mother, 
on her death-bed, had kindled in my heart. 


SEQUEL OF THE SEVERED HAND. 135 


‘During the last moments of her life, her conscious- 
ness returned. She summoned me to her bedside, and 
spoke with calmness of her death and our unhappy fate. 
She then caused all the attendants to leave the chamber, 
and, raising herself solemnly in her bed, told me that I 
could never obtain her dying blessing unless I swore 
to perform the duty which she was about to confide to 
me. Excited to frenzy, I promised with a solemn oath 
to obey her commands. Calling down imprecations 
upon the Florentine and his daughter, she adjured me, 
by the terror of her curse, to revenge on him and her 
the misfortunes of our house. She died soon after in 
my arms. The thoughts of vengeance, which had long 
slumbered in my bosom, were awakened in all their 
fury. I collected the relics of my father’s property, and 
swore to peril all for my revenge, or perish myself in 
the attempt. 

‘‘T goon reached Florence, where I kept myself as 
secretly as possible. The difficulties of my plan were 
much increased by the social position in which I found 
my enemies. The old Florentine had been elected gov- 
ernor, and of course had every means at hand to crush 
me, on the slightest suspicion of my presence. Chance 
came to my assistance. One evening I saw a servant 
in a well-known livery passing through the street; his 
uncertain walk, his sullen look, and his half-audible 
imprecations of Santo sacramento and Maledetto diavolo, 
enabled me to recognize instantly old Pietro, a servant 
of the Florentine, whom I had formerly known in Alex- 
andria. I felt no doubt, from his appearance, that he 
was angry with his master for some good or foolish rea- 
son, and I resolved on the spot to avail myself of his 
present humor. He seemed much surprised to see me 
in Florence, and detailed to me his wrongs, telling me 


136 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


that, since his master had been governor of the city, he 
could never do anything to satisfy him; and my gold, 
combined with his anger, soon brought him to my side. 
The greatest obstacle was now removed. I had a man 
in my pay, who at any moment could open for me my 
enemy’s door, and now my revenge drew swiftly to 
its accomplishment. The life of the old Florentine 
appeared to me too worthless, when weighed in the 
balance with the ruin of my house. He should witness 
the murder of his dearest treasure, and this was his 
daughter Bianca. She had sinned so deeply against 
my brother that she was, after all, the principal cause 
of our destruction. Most welcome to my rage-devoured 
heart was the news that about this time Bianca was 
about to wed a second time. It was settled she must 
die. But I shuddered at such a deed myself, and I had 
too little confidence in Pietro’s strength of will to en- 
trust its perpetration to him. We sought, therefore, 
for a man fit to accomplish our purposes. I dared not 
enlist a Florentine, for no one would have undertaken 
such a deed against the governor. Suddenly Pietro 
conceived the plan, which we afterwards carried out, 
and represented you, a stranger and a surgeon, as the 
most fitted for our purposes. The result, you know. 
My project was nearly wrecked at one time by your 
caution and honor. Hence the accident with the 
mantle. 

“It was Pietro who had opened for us the little door in 
the governor’s palace, and he would have guided us out 
by the same way, had we not both fled from the spot, 
aghast at the terrible spectacle presented to our gaze 
through the door of Bianca’s chamber. 

‘‘Pursued by horror and remorse, I ran madly two 
hundred paces, and sank down on the steps of a church. 


SEQUEL OF THE SEVERED HAND. 137 


There, for the first time, I collected my scattered senses, 
and my first thought was of you and the frightful fate 
which awaited you should you be discovered in the 
house. 

‘“‘T crept to the palace, but could find not the slight- 
est trace either of you ar of Pietro. But the door stood 
open, so I could at least hope that you had made use 
of your opportunity to escape. 

‘As soon as day broke, the dread of discovery and 
an irresistible feeling of remorse drove me from Flor- 
ence. I hastened to Rome. But conceive the despair 
of my soul, when, a few days later, the story was cir- 
culated among the people, with the addition that a 
Greek physician had been arrested as the murderer. I 
hurried back in dreadful agitation to Florence ; for, if 
my vengeance had already seemed too fearful, I cursed 
myself now as having purchased it far too dearly at 
the price of your guiltless life. J arrived on the same 
day which deprived you of your hand. I will not de- 
scribe the feelings which racked my soul when I saw 
you ascend the scaffold and suffer so heroically your 
unmerited punishment. But, as I saw your blood spout 
forth in streams, I formed the fixed resolve to alleviate 
by the devotion of my life the unhappy remainder of 
your own. What has happened since you know too 
well; and it only remains to me now to tell you why I 
have made this long journey in your company. 

“The thought that you had never forgiven me 
weighed upon my soul like a dreadful burthen. | I re- 
solved therefore to spend many days in your society, 
to confess myself at last the unhappy cause of the suf- 
ferings you had undergone, and hear from your own 
lips my forgiveness or condemnation.” 

The Greek listened in silence to his guest’s recital, 

12° 


138 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and, on his ceasing to speak, held out his hand, with a 
glance of compassion. ‘‘] was sure,’’ said he, ‘ that 
you were a greater sufferer than myself, for that terri- 
ble crime will darken like a cloud the remainder of your 
life. I forgive you from my heart. But permit mea 
single question. How came you in the desert under 
that strange disguise? Whither did you go after you 
had bought the house in Constantinople ?”’ 

‘‘T returned to Alexandria,’ answered the stranger, 
‘hatred to all mankind flaming in my heart; burning 
hate especially toward those nations called by men 
civilized. I preferred to be among the Moslemites. 
Scarcely had I been a month in Alexandria, when my 
countrymen, the French, invaded the land. 

‘‘T saw in them only the slayers of my father and 
my brother; so, collecting a handful of my acquaint- 
ance, I joined the valiant Mamelukes, who had so often 
been the terror of the French army. At the termination 
of the campaign, | could not persuade myself to return 
to the habits of peaceful life, and lived with my band 
of congenial friends a restless, wandering existence, 
devoted to warfare and the chase. I lived contented 
among these people, who revere me as their master ; 
for, if my Asiatics are less civilized than your Europe- 
ans, they are at least far more exempt from envy and 
malice, selfishness and ambition.” 

Zaleukos thanked the stranger for his frank avowal, 
but urged upon him that he would find it more suited 
to his rank and his accomplishments to live and toil in 
Christian European lands. He seized his hand in his, 
and entreated him earnestly to abandon his present 
reckless life, to go with him, and to live and die in his 
own house. His guest looked at him with great emo- 
tion. ‘From this I know,’’ said he, ‘‘that I have 


SEQUEL OF THE SEVERED HAND. 139 


gained your full forgiveness and your love. Accept 
my heartfelt gratitude.’’ He sprang up and stood at 
his full height before the Greek, who almost shrank 
before the warlike figure, the dark, gleaming eyes, and 
the deep, mysterious voice of his guest. ‘‘ Your offer 
is a noble one,’’ he continued. ‘‘ To any other it would 
be resistless. I cannot accept it. Already my horse 
stands saddled ; already my servants are waiting for my 
return. Farewell, Zaleukos.”’ 

The two friends, whom fate had so strangely united, 
threw themselves into each other’s arms in a parting 
embrace. 

‘And what is your name? How shall I think of my 
guest, who will live forever in my memory ?”’ asked the 
Greek. 

The stranger gazed long in his face, and, pressing 
his hand once more, said, ‘‘ They call me the Sovereign 
of the Desert. JI am the Robber Orbasan!” 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 


Aur Banu, the Sheik of Alexandria, was a peculiar 
man. In the morning, when he went through the streets 
of the city, with his folded turban of Cashmere shawls, 
his dress of state, and his sumptuous girdle, worth at 
least fifty camels; when he passed along, with a slow 
and stately step, his forehead contracted into deep fur- 
rows, his eyes cast down, and his hand thoughtfully 
stroking his long black beard, to expound, in accord- 
ance with the duty of his office, selections from the 
Koran to faithful followers of the Prophet, his servants 
waiting in the streets outside used to look after their 
master, and say one to another, ‘‘ What a handsome, 
stately man he is!’’—‘‘ And rich, immensely rich,” 
another would add, ‘‘enormously rich. Has n’t hea pal- 
ace on the bay of Stamboul? Has n’t he estates, and 
stock, and thousands on thousands of cattle, and count- 
less troops of slaves? ’’—‘ Yes,’ a third would say ; 
‘‘and the Tartar, who was sent to him lately from Stam- 
boul, from the holy sultan himself, — whom our Prophet 
bless !— told me that our sheik was held in the highest 
honor by the reis-effendi, by the kapidshi-baschi, by 
every great man there.’”’ —‘‘ Ay, ay,” cried a fourth; 
‘‘his footsteps are blessed. He is a wealthy, splendid 
nobleman ; but—but— You know what I mean! ’’ — 
“* Ay, ay,” the rest would murmur, “ ay, ay; he has his 














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THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 





THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 141 


own load to carry ; we would not change places with 
him. He isa rich, splendid gentleman; but — but —’”’ 

Ali Banu had a palace on the first square in Alexan- 
dria. In front was a wide terrace, walled with marble, 
and shaded by palms, among which he often sat in the 
evenings and smoked his jewelled water-pipe. Twelve 
slaves in superb liveries waited at a respectful distance 
for his nod; one carried his betel, another his parasol, 
a third cups of beaten gold filled with sherbet, a fourth 
a fan of peacock’s feathers to keep away the flies from 
his master; others were musicians, and carried lutes 
and wind instruments, to supply him with music when 
he felt disposed; and the most highly honored of all 
held rolls of manuscript to read aloud to him when he 
felt inclined to hear. 

But they waited in vain for his sign. He wanted not 
music, nor singing ; he refused to listen to the poems 
of the wise poets of the past; he declined-his sherbet 
and his betel, and even the bearer of the peacock-fan 
wasted his labors, for his lord paid no heed to the buzz- 
ing flies which hovered about his head. 

The passers-by often paused in their walks to admire 
the splendor of the palace, the rich dresses of the slaves, 
and the luxury displayed in everything around; but, 
when they saw the sheik, as he sat so sadly under the 
palms, his eyes never wandering from the azure clouds 
of his pipe, they would shake their heads, and say to 
each other, ‘‘ Truly, this rich man is a poor man. He, 
having much, is poorer than we, who have nothing ; for 
the Prophet has denied him the ability to enjoy.’”’ So 
spoke the people, and went their ways, laughing at the 
sheik. é, 

One evening, as the sheik was sitting under the 
palms before his door, surrounded by every beauty of 


142 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


nature, and smoking his pipe, several young people, 
standing at no great distance, looked over at him and 
laughed. 

‘‘Upon my word,” said one of them, ‘that sheik, 
Ali Banu, is a foolish man. If I had his wealth I would 
make a very different use of it. I would spend every 
day right royally. My friends should come and dine 
with me in the great halls of my house, and mirth and 
laughter should fill all those melancholy chambers.” 

‘‘Yes,’’ answered a second ; ‘‘ that would be all very 
fine ; but many friends eat up one’s riches, were they 
as large as those of the blessed sultan himself, whom 
the Prophet bless! Now, if I sat every evening as he 
does in this beautiful garden under the palms, 1 would 
have my musicians sing and play, and my dancers 
should dance and leap, and go through all sorts of won- 
derful performances. And I would smoke my water- 
pipe all the time in great state, and call for my precious 
sherbet, and enjoy myself on all my comforts like the 
Caliph of Bagdad himself.’’ 

‘“‘The sheik,’’ said another, who was a scribe, ‘‘ the 
sheik may be a learned and skilful man, and his expla- 
nations of the Koran show extensive reading; but is 
his life regulated as becomes a rational being? There 
stands at this moment a slave with a whole armful of 
books, which I would give my best suit of clothes to 
be able to read one of, for no doubt they are rare works. 
But he! He does nothing but sit and smoke; and as 
for books, he lets them alone. If I were Sheik Ali 
Banu, that rascal should read to me till he had no breath 
left, or till night prevented ; and even then he should 
go on reading till I had dropped asleep.”’ 

“Ha, ha! Strange notions yours of a pleasant life! ’’ 
laughed a fourth. ‘‘Eating and drinking, singing and 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 143 


dancing, reading proverbs and listening to poems by 
trumpery poets! No; I would manage things very 
differently. The sheik has splendid horses and camels, 
and heaps of gold. IfI were in his place, I would ride 
to the end of the world, ay, even to Moscow or to 
France. I should consider no journey too long, if, by 
taking it, I could see the splendors of the world. That 
is what I would do if I were that man*yonder,”’ 

‘Youth is a happy time, and the age of highest en- 
joyment,”’ said an old man, of shabby appearance, stand- 
ing near them, and who had overheard their conversa- 
tion. ‘‘ But permit me to say that youth is also foolish, 
and does a great deal of idle chattering in the course 
of a day.”’ 

«“ What do you mean by that, old fellow?’’ asked the 
young men in amazement. ‘Do yourefertous? What 
business is it of yours if we talk about the sheik’s mode 
of life? ”’ 

«© «Tf any one is better informed than his neighbor, 
let him enlighten his error,’ the blessed Prophet tells 
us,’’ answered the old man. ‘‘ The sheik is blessed 
with vast riches, it is true, and has everything that 
heart can desire; but he has good reasons for being so 
grave and sad. Think you he has been so all his life ? 
No; I saw him often fifteen years ago, and he was as 
gay and joyous as a gazelle, living happily and enjoy- 
ing his wealth. He had a son, then, the delight of his 
life, handsome and intelligent as can be conceived ; and 
whoever saw him or heard him speak envied the sheik 
the possession of such a treasure, for he was only ten 
years old and yet as wise as others generally are at 
eighteen.”’ 

‘And he died? Unhappy sheik!’ exclaimed the 
writer. 


144 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘It would have been a consolation to his father to 
know that he had gone home to the mansions of the 
Prophet, where his life would be happier than here in 
Alexandria,’ replied the old man. ‘‘ But the truth is 
far worse. It was the time when the French came here, 
like a pack of hungry wolves, and warred against us 
jn our own land. They had taken Alexandria, and 
were marching deeper and deeper into the land, and 
had conquered the Mamelukes. The sheik was a pru- 
dent man, and was wise enough to keep on good terms 
with the oppressors. But whether it was that they 
thirsted for his treasures, or whether it was that he 
showed an interest in his oppressed brethren among 
the faithful, I do not know ; enough that they came one 
day to his house, accusing him of having secretly sup- 
plied the Mamelukes with arms, horses, and provisions. 
Protest his innocence as he might, it availed nothing, 
for the French are a cruel people, when their object is 
to extort gold. They took his little son, Kairam, into 
their camp as a hostage. He offered them great sums 
for his return, but they refused to release him, and 
insisted on his making them a higher offer. Suddenly 
the order came from their pasha, or whatever he was 
called, to reémbark. No one in Alexandria knew a 
word of their intention, and suddenly they were on 
the high seas, and had carried with them little Kai- 
‘ram, Ali Banu’s son. Nothing has ever been heard of 
him from that day to this.”’ 

‘©Q, the unhappy man! how has Allah smitten him!”’ 
exclaimed the young men, looking with sympathy at 
the old sheik, as, surrounded with splendor, he sat 
mourning under the palms. 

‘His wife, whom he fondly loved, died of grief for 
the loss of her son. He himself purchased a ship, and, 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 145 


having fitted her out, induced the French physician, who 
lives near yonder fountain, to travel with him to France 
in search of his lost son. They had a long voyage, but 
reached at last the country of the Giaours, the unbe- 
lievers. There they found that frightful events had 
come to pass. The people had overthrown their sultan 
and pashas, and rich and poor were striking each oth- 
ers’ heads from their shoulders, and there was no order 
in the land. They sought, without success, through 
every city, for little Kairam. But no one knew of him; 
and the French physician at length prevailed on the 
sheik to reémbark and return home, lest in the univer- 
sal madness which ruled the hour they should forfeit 
their own heads. 

“‘They came back to Alexandria, and since his return 
the sheik has passed his life, as you have seen him 
to-day, mourning for his son; and he is right. Must 
he not think, when he eats and drinks, ‘Perhaps my 
poor son is now fainting with hunger and thirst’? And 
when he clothes himself with rich shawls and robes, as 
his office requires, can he avoid thinking in his own 
mind: ‘Perhaps at this moment my son has nothing 
with which to hide his nakedness’! And when sur- 
rounded by singers and dancers, thinks he not: ‘ Per- 
haps my unhappy son is forced like these to dance and _ 
leap, at the will of his French master’? And what. 
occasions him the deepest sorrow, is the fear that his 
little son, so far away from his native land, and sur- 
rounded by unbelievers, who deride his religion, will be 
turned away from his father’s faith, and he shall never 
clasp him to his heart in the garden of Paradise.” 

‘‘For this reason is he so gentle to his slaves, and so 
nobly generous to the poor; for he thinks that Allah 
will requite his benevolence, and soften the hearts of 

13 


146 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the Franks, who hold his son, so that they will use him 
kindly. And on every return of the day when his son 
was torn from his arms, he gives their freedom to twelve 
slaves.’’ 

“Thad heard something like this before,’’ said the 
scribe ; ‘‘ but strange tales circulate among the people. 
I had heard it said that he is a peculiar man, and eager 
to excess after good stories. Hence he encourages 
every year a contest among his slaves, and gives free- 
dom to him who tells the best tale.’’ 

“Do not put faith in vulgar rumors,” said the old 
man. ‘‘ The truth is as I tell you, and I am certain of 
what I say. Possibly he may become more cheerful on 
that painful day, and listen to stories told him by his 
slaves; but he makes them free for his son’s sake. 
Well, the evening grows cool, and I must go further. 
Schalem aleikum ! peace be with you, young gentlemen, 
and, in future, think better of the good sheik! ”’ 

The young men thanked the old stranger for his infor- 
mation, and, taking one more look at the sorrowing 
father, went their way, saying to one another: ‘I 
would not be the Sheik Ali Banu.’’ 





Not long after these young men had had their con- 
versation with the aged stranger, they had occasion to 
pass again through the same street at the hour of morn- 
ing prayer. The stranger and his story recurred to 
their recollection, and, expressing their sympathy for 
the unhappy sheik, they looked towards his house. But 
what was their astonishment when they saw everything 
dressed in the greatest splendor! From the roof, where 
richly-dressed slave-girls were walking about, waved 
pendants and streamers ; the great hall was spread with 
precious carpets ; silken drapery mingled with the car- 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 147 


pet covering the steps; and cloths were laid over the 
street itself, of such costly splendor, that many a one 
would have been proud to make himself a holiday suit 
from their very remnants. 

“‘ Why, how the sheik has altered his habits within 
the last few days!” said the young writer. ‘‘ Does he 
mean to hold a festival? or is he practising his singers 
and dancers? Look at this cloth! Is there another so 
fine in all Alexandria? And such a cloth as this on the 
public sidewalk! Really, such extravagance is almost 
disgraceful ! ”’ 

“T7ll tell you what I think,” said another. ‘He 
must be entertaining some distinguished guest; for 
preparations like these are only made when the gov- 
ernor of some great territory, or an effendi of the sul- 
tan, honors a house with a visit. Who can have come 
here to-day, I wonder ?”’ 

“Look! isn’t that old man yonder our new acquaint- 
ance? He knows everything, and can, no doubt, 
explain this mystery.— Hallo! old friend! This way 
a moment, if you please ! ”’ 

The old man heard their calls, and approached, rec- 
ognizing them at once as the young men he had talked 
with a few days before. They called his attention to 
the preparations going on in the sheik’s house, and 
asked him if he knew what distinguished guest was 
expected. 

““So you suppose,” he answered, ‘“‘ that Ali Banu is 
honoring the visit of some great man? Far from it. 
This is the twelfth day of the month Ramadan, and is 
the day on which his son was taken to the French 
camp.”’ 

- “But, by the beard of the Prophet!” cried one of the 
young men, ‘everything here is as gay as a wedding, 


148 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and yet it ought to be his day of especial lamentation ! 
How do you reconcile these two things? Surely, the 
sheik is touched in, his upper story !”’ 

‘‘Do you form all your opinions so rapidly, my young 
friend ?’’ said the old man, laughing. ‘‘ Your arrow 
was sharp and pointed, and the string of your bow was 
strong; but you have shot very wide of the mark. 
Know that to-day the sheik expects his son.”’ 

‘‘Has he been found?’’ exclaimed the young men, 
delighted. 

‘No; nor will he be fora long time. But, listen. 
Eight or ten years ago, when the sheik was wont to 
pass this day in mourning and lamentation, releasing 
his slaves, and feeding multitudes of the poor, it hap- 
pened that he supplied with food a dervish, who lay, 
weary and faint, in the shadow of his house. This der- 
vish was a holy man, and skilled in astrology and divina- 
tion. Refreshed by the gentle hand of the sheik, he came 
to him and said: ‘I know the cause of your sorrow. 
Is not to-day the twelfth of Ramadan? and did you not 
lose your son on this day? Take courage. This day 
of grief shall be to you a day of rejoicing; for know 
that on this day your son will hereafter return to you.’ 
Thus spoke the dervish. It is a sin in every good Mus- 
sulman to doubt the promise of such a man; and, though 
Ali’s grief was not diminished, he has expected, ever 
since, his son’s return on this day, and decorates his 
house and hall, and these steps, as if he thought his 
child might arrive at any hour.”’ 

‘‘ Wonderful !”’ cried the young writer. ‘I would 
like extremely to see the magnificence of his prepara- 
tions, and to witness his melancholy in the midst of all 
this splendor; and, above all, I should like to listen to 
the stories which his slaves tell him.’ 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 149 


‘Nothing easier than that,”” answered the old man. 
‘The superintendent of his slaves has been a friend of 
mine for many years, and on this anniversary always 
keeps for me a place in the hall, where, in the crowd of 
the sheik’s servants and friends, a single stranger 
escapes notice. I will ask him to let youin. There 
are but four of you, and there can be no difficulty in the 
matter. Come at nine o’clock to this place, and I will 
give you his answer.” 

Thus spoke the old man, and the young people, 
thanking him, retired from the place, full of curiosity to 
see the end of the adventure. 

They returned at the appointed hour to the square 
before the sheik’s house, and found there the old man, 
who told them that the superintendent had granted his, 
request. He led them forward, and, passing the deco- 
rated steps and sumptuous door, took them through a 
little side-entrance, which he closed carefully behind 
them. He then led them along several passages, till 
they came to the great hall. Here, on every side, was 
a dense throng. Here were richly-clad gentlemen, 
great noblemen of Alexandria, and friends of the sheik, 
who had come to console him in his afflictions. Here, 
also, were slaves, of all nations and all conditions. But 
all looked grave and mournful; for they loved and sym- 
pathized with the aged mourner. At the end of the 
hall sat Ali’s most valued friends, waited upon by 
slaves. The sheik himself sat on the floor near by, sor- 
row for his son forbidding him to take his seat on the 
carpets of indulgence. His head was supported in his 
hand, and he seemed to hear little of the consolations 
which his friends whispered in his ear. Several men, 
in the dress of slaves, sat opposite. Tht old stranger 
informed his young friends that these were to be lib- 

13* 


150 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


erated on this day by Ali Banu. There were several 
Franks among them, and the old man called the atten- 
tion of his friends to one of these, who was of distin- 
guished beauty and extreme youth. The sheik had 
purchased him a few days previously of a slave-dealer 
of Tunis, at an enormous price, and gave him his free- 
dom thus early, in the belief that the more Franks he 
restored to their native land, the sooner would the 
Prophet release his son from captivity. 

After refreshments had been passed around among 
the entire assembly, the sheik gave a signal to his 
superintendent. The latter rose, and a profound silence 
reigned throughout the hall. He stepped in front of the 
slaves set apart to be liberated, and said, in impressive 
tones: ‘‘ Men, who are this day to be restored to free- 
dom through the favor of my Lord Ali Banu, do now 
what is customary in this house on this day, and begin 
your narrations.” 

The slaves addressed whispered a moment among 
themselves. Thereupon an aged captive took up the 
word, and commenced. 





NOSEY, THE DWARF. 


O, master! those persons are much deceived, who 
believe that fairies and magicians have ceased to exist 
since the times of Haroun Al-Raschid, sovereign of 
Bagdad, or who assert that those stories of the doings 
of genii, which one hears from story-tellers in the mar- 
ket-place, are all untrue. There are fairies in existence 
at this very day ; and I myself was witness, not a great 


UT Lai 


WY, 


me : if 
© Ud Nt EO 


NOSEY THE DWARF. 








NOSEY, THE DWARF. 151 


while since, of an incident in which genii manifestly 
had a hand, and which I will now relate to you. 

Many years ago, in a considerable city of my dear 
native land, Germany, lived a cobbler and his wife. 
The cobbler sat daily at the corner of the street, mend- 
ing shoes and slippers, and making new ones when any 
one would trust him with the commission. His wife 
sold herbs and fruits, which she cultivated in a little 
garden before her house ; and many persons bought of 
her in preference to any other person, because her dress 
was always clean and neat, and she knew how to spread 
out and arrange her herbs in an attractive fashion. 

This old couple had a son, of agreeable face and 
figure, and, for a lad of twelve years of age, well 
grown. He usually sat by the old lady in the market- 
place, to carry home fruits and vegetables for the house- 
wives who bought of his mother; and he rarely came 
back from such errands without some pretty flower, or 
bit of money, or some nice trifle to eat ; for the masters 
and mistresses were always glad to see the boy’s pleas- 
ant face at their houses, and used to reward him hand- 
somely. 

The shoemaker’s wife was sitting one day, as usual, 
in the market; before her stood her baskets of herbs, 
cabbages, roots, and vegetables, and in a smaller one a 
choice lot of early pears, apples, and apricots. Little 
Jacob was sitting near her, and calling the wares in his 
high, shrill voice: ‘‘ Here, gentlemen, see what fine 
cabbages and elegant vegetables we have! Ladies, here 
are early pears, apples, and apricots! Who buys? Who 
buys? My mother sells very cheap.’’ While the boy 
was shouting his recommendations in this way, an old 
woman entered the market. Her clothes were tattered 
and shabby, and she had a little, pointed face, wrinkled 


152 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


with age, red eyes, and a sharp, hooked nose hanging 
down to her chin. She walked leaning on a long cane, 
but it was hard to see how she managed to get along ; 
for she hobbled and stumbled so much that it seemed as 
if she had sticks in her legs, and would tumble down 
and scratch her long nose on the pavement every 
instant. 

The shoemaker’s wife watched this old woman atten- 
tively. She had sat now for sixteen years in the mar- 
ket-place every day, and had never before seen so sin- 
gular a figure ; and she shrank involuntarily when the 
old creature hobbled up to her, and stopped before her 
baskets. 

‘« Are you Hannah, who sells greens?” inquired the 
old woman, in a harsh, disagreeable voice, shaking her 
head incessantly. 

““Yes,’? answered the shoemaker’s wife; ‘‘do you 
wish to buy?” 

‘‘ Perhaps so, perhaps so; let us see your cabbages ; 
you may have what I want,’’ replied the old beldame, 
bending down over the baskets, and feeling of the veg- 
etables with her brown, skinny hands. She picked out 
the nicely-spread cabbages with her long, spider-fingers, 
and, bringing them one after the other to her nose, 
smelt them all over. The heart of the shoemaker’s wife 
was in her mouth when she saw the old crone treating 
her delicate greens in this way, but she ventured no 
remark ; for every buyer had a right to examine the 
goods, and she felt, moreover, a mysterious dread of 
the old creature. After the latter had gone through the 
entire stock, she muttered: ‘‘ Miserable trash! wretched 
stuff! nothing here to suit me! Things used to bea 
great deal better fifty years ago. Worthless stuff! 
worthless stuff! ”’ 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 153 


Such criticisms disgusted little Jacob extremely. 
‘Hark! you are a shameless old woman,” he cried 
angrily ; “first you grope with your long fingers among 
the beautiful greens, squeezing them out of shape, and 
then you hold them to your long, ugly nose, so that 
nobody who saw you will buy them; and, after all, you 
call them miserable trash, though the duke’s own cook 
always buys of us!” 

The old hag leered at the angry boy, laughed a fright- 
ful laugh, and said, in a harsh voice: 

‘Sonny, sonny! So my nose displeases you, hey ; 
my long, handsome nose? Then you shall have one 
yourself hanging down to your chin.” 

While speaking, she slipped along to the other bas- 
ket, and, taking up one of the finest white cabbage- 
heads in her hand, squeezed it together till you could 
hear it groan, and then, throwing it carelessly into 
the basket again, said: ‘‘ Miserable trash! miserable 
trash ! ”’ 

‘‘Don’t wag your head about so frightfully,”’ cried 
the little boy, in great wrath. ‘‘ Your neck is as lean 
as a cabbage-stalk, and may break off as easily, and 
then your head would fall into our basket. Who do 
you think would buy then ?”’ 

‘So you don’t like my long, lean neck?’ muttered 
the old woman, laughing. ‘‘Then you shall have none 
at all; your head shall stick close to your shoulders, so 
it cannot fall off from your little puny body.” 

“Don’t chatter such stuff to the little boy,’’ said the 
shoemaker’s wife, angry at the incessant inspecting» 
fingering, and smelling. ‘‘If you wish to buy anything, 
make haste, for you frighten away the rest of my cus- 
tomers.”’ 

‘“Very good; so be it, then,’’ cried the old woman, 


154 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


with a savage glance. ‘‘I will take these six cabbage- 
heads ; but, yousee, I must lean on my stick here, and 
can carry nothing, of course. Let your son carry them 
home for me, and I will pay him handsomely.” 

The boy felt little inclined to go, and began to cry, 
for he felt a horror at the hideous hag; but his mother 
sternly ordered him to do so, for she thought it a sin to 
impose such a burden on the feeble old creature. So, 
half crying, he obeyed her commands, and, collecting 
the cabbages into a basket, followed the beldame out of 
the market. 

She moved along very slowly, and it was nearly three 
quarters of an hour before she halted at a small, tumble- 
down house in a remote quarter of the city. There she 
drew an old, rusty key from her pocket, and thrust it 
dexterously into a little hole in the door, which flew 
open, creaking loudly. But fancy little Jacob’s aston- 
ishment when he entered the house! The interior of . 
the building was furnished magnificently ; the walls and 
ceilings were of marble, the furniture of the finest 
ebony, inlaid with gold and precious stones, while the 
floers were of glass, and, withal, so polished and smooth 
that little Jacob slipped and fell on them several times. 
The old woman now drew from her pocket a little silver 
pipe, and blew a blast which sounded shrilly through 
the house. Several guinea-pigs rushed immediately up 
stairs, and Jacob was filled with profound astonishment 
at seeing that they walked upright on their hind legs, 
wore nutshells on their feet instead of shoes, and were 
dressed from head to tail in men’s clothes. 

‘Where are my slippers, you vile rabble? ’’ cried the 
old lady, striking among them with her cane. ‘‘ How 
long must I stand here in this condition ?”’ 

“They ran hastily down stairs, and returned with a 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 155 


couple of cocoa-nut shells, lined with leather, which 
they put dexterously on the old woman’s feet. 

All her hobbling and slipping were at an end. Throw- 
ing her stick away, and taking Jacob’s hand, she slid 
with great speed across the glass floor. At length 
she paused in a room bearing some resemblance to a 
kitchen, though the tables were made of polished 
mahogany, and the sofas, which were covered with rich 
damask, would have better suited a drawing-room. 

“Sit down,” said the old witch very kindly, pushing 
him into the corner of a sofa, and shoving a table before 
him so that he could not escape; ‘‘sit down. You have 
had a heavy load to carry; men’s heads are far from 
light, far from light.”’ 

‘‘ What are you talking so strangely for, ma’am ?” 
cried the little fellow. ‘‘I am tired, I know, but it was 
the cabbages I carried which made me so; you bought 
them of my mother, you remember.” 

‘‘Ha, ha, you are mistaken,’”’ laughed the old woman, 
uncovering the basket, and taking out a human head by 
a tuft of hair. The boy was beside himself with horror ; 
he could not comprehend how such a thing had hap- 
pened, and his thoughts reverted to his mother. “If 
any one were to hear of these human heads,”’ he thought 
to himself, ‘‘my mother would certainly be informed 
against.’’ 

‘‘T must give you some little present now, since you 
are so obliging,’’ muttered the hag; “wait a few mo- 
ments, child, and I will get you a morsel to eat, which 
you will remember till the day of your death.” 

Saying this, she again blew her pipe. Several guinea- 
pigs instantly appeared, dressed in cooks’ aprons, with 
ladles and carving-knives stuck in their girdles. These 
were followed by a troop of nimble squirrels, wearing 


156 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


wide Turkish trousers, walking upright, and with caps 
of green velvet on their heads. These last seemed to 
be the scullions of the establishment, for they clam- 
bered with great celerity up the walls, and bringing 
down pans, dishes, eggs and butter, and herbs and 
meal, carried them to the hearth. At the fire-place the 
old lady was bustling about very busily in her slippers 
of cocoa-nut shell, and the boy saw that she was cook- 
ing some very nice treat for him. The fire began to 
blaze, the pans steamed and boiled, a pleasant smell 
filled the room, and the old woman kept running up and 
down, with the guinea-pigs and squirrels at her heels, 
and, every time she came near the hearth, poking her 
long nose into the pot. At length the contents began 
to hiss and bubble, steam ascended from the pot, 
and froth flew out into the fire. She took it off the 
hearth, poured some of the contents into a silver saucer, 
and set it before little Jacob. 

‘‘There, little son,’ said she, ‘‘eat this nice por- 
ridge ; you never tasted anything so nice in all your 
life. And you shall be a skilful cook, lad, and be a 
famous man yet; but the cabbages, — no, you will never 
find the cabbages ; why had n’t your mother any cab- 
bages in her basket ?”’ 

The little boy understood very little of what she said, 
but directed his whole energies upon the porridge, 
which he found excellent. His mother had made him a 
great many nice titbits, but never any so good as this. 
The vapor of his herbs and cabbages rose to his nostrils, 
and the porridge was very strong and thick. While he 
was supping up the last drops of the precious fluid, the 
guinea-pigs lighted some Arabian incense, which floated 
in azure clouds through the room. Thicker and thicker 
grew the clouds, the vapor exercising a magic influence 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 157 


on the little boy. Remind himself as often as he pleased 
that he ought to go back to his mother, —-recover his 
consciousness as often as he might, he would sink back 
irresistibly into slumber again; and at length he lay 
sound asleep on the old woman’s sofa. Strange dreams 
visited his slumbers. It seemed to him that the old 
woman had taken off his clothes, and dressed him instead 
in the skin of a squirrel. He could now spring and 
climb like a squirrel, and serve his mistress about the 
house with the rest of the little animals, whom he found 
very sensible, intelligent creatures. At first he was 
employed merely as a shoeblack; that is, he had to 
rub with oil and polish brightly the cocoa-nut shells 
which the old lady used for slippers. As he had often 
been engaged in this business at home, these ‘duties 
came easily to his hand. At the end of a year he 
dreamed he was appointed to higher duties. With sev- 
eral other squirrels he was employed to gather atoms 
from the sunbeams, and, after collecting a sufficient 
quantity, sift them through the finest hair-sieves. The 
old woman prized these sun-atoms as precious esculents, 
and, being unable to bite for want of teeth, prepared 
her bread from these impalpable particles. 

At the end of another year he was promoted to the 
office of collector of water for the old lady’s drinking. 
Do not imagine that a cistern of this fluid stood ready 
in the garden, or that they resorted to a cask in the 
court-yard, placed there to collect the rain. Their 
duties were far more onerous. Jacob and the squirrels 
had to draw dew from roses, in shells of hazel-nuts ; and, 
this being the only drink used by their dainty mistress, 
and her thirst being excessive, the offices of these little 
water-carriers were far from sinecures. 

Another year passed, and he was appointed to ser- 

14 


158 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


vice within the house. It was now his duty to keep 
the floors unsoiled, and these being made of glass, 
which betrayed the faintest breath, his cares of office 
were extremely burdensome. He and his fellow-labor- 
ers were compelled to brush them incessantly, and 
travel dexterously about the room with their feet 
wrapped in old rags. 

After four years’ service he was promoted to the 
kitchen; an honorable post, to be attained only after 
long preliminary training. There Jacob rose gradually 
from scullion to first pastry-maker, and acquired by 
degrees such extraordinary skill in everything apper- 
taining to the art of cookery, that he was often lost in 
wonder at his own accomplishments. The most difficult 
and delicate compounds, — pastry flavored with two hun- 
dred essences, herb-soups composed of all the vegeta- 
bles of the earth, —all these he learned to prepare with 
the greatest skill and celerity. 

Seven years had thus passed in the service of the old 
woman, when one day, while she drew off her cocoa-nut 
shoes, and took her basket and cane to go out, she 
directed him to pluck a young chicken, stuff it with 
herbs, and roast it beautifully brown and crisp, against 
she came back. He began according to all the rules 
of art. He twisted the chicken’s neck, scalded it 
in hot water, skilfully drew out its feathers, and 
scraped its skin till it was smooth and soft. He then 
began to get together the herbs to make the stuffing. 
While doing this, he discovered in the herb-room a cup- 
board, which he had never before noticed. Approach- 
ing it curiously to see what it contained, he saw, to his 
surprise, numerous little baskets standing inside, from 
which issued a strong and delightful odor. Opening 
one of them he found in it a plant of extraordinary 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 159 


shape and color. The stalks and leaves were of a 
bluish-green, and bore aloft a small flower of burning 
red, edged with yellow. While gazing thoughtfully at 
this flower, and smelling of it, the same strong odor 
streamed out which had ascended to his nostrils years 
ago from the broth which the old woman had cooked 
for him; the smell was so powerful that he began to 
sneeze, and the sneezing became more and more 
violent, till at last — he woke up. 

He found himself lying on the old woman’s sofa, and 
looked round him in bewilderment. ‘‘It is astonishing 
how vivid one’s dreams are sometimes!” said he to 
himself. ‘‘I could have sworn just now that I was a 
filthy squirrel, a companion of guinea-pigs and other 
brutes, and that I had become a wonderful cook. How 
mother will laugh when I tell her the story! But I’m 
afraid she will scold me, too, for going to sleep in a 
strange house, instead of helping her in the market.’’ 
With these reflections he picked himself up to take his 
departure ; but his limbs were still stiff from sleeping, 
and he found it impossible to turn his head, and he 
laughed heartily at his excessive sleepiness, too, for he 
was constantly thrusting his nose against a cupboard, 
or the wall, or striking it against the door-post when 
he turned hastily round. The squirrels and guinea- 
pigs ran whining around him, as if they wanted to go 
away also, and he invited them to do so when he 
reached the threshold; but they ran swiftly back into 
the house on their nut-shell shoes, and he could hear 
them yelping in the far distance as he walked away. 

It was a remote quarter of the city to which the old 
beldame had taken him, and he could scarcely find his 
way out of the narrow lanes. There was a great throng 
of people in them besides, and the boy thought to him- — 


160 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


self that there must be a dwarf to be seen somewhere 
in the neighborhood, for he heard cries everywhere 
about him of, ‘‘Ho! see the ugly dwarf! Where does 
this dwarf come from? Ho, what a long nose he has! 
and how his head sticks to his shoulders! and see his 
hideous brown hands!’’ At any other time he would 
have lingered to follow this creature, for he liked noth- 
ing so much in his life as to see giants and dwarfs, and 
similar monstrosities; but now he was in too greata 
hurry to get home to his mother. 

He felt ready to cry when he came to the market- 
place. His mother was still sitting where he had left 
her, with a good deal of fruit left in her baskets, so 
that he could not have slept a great while; and yet, 
it seemed to him, from the distance, as if she were look- 
ing very sad and unhappy, for she did not call to the 
passers-by to come and buy her wares, but was sitting 
silent, with her head supported in her hand; and, as he 
came nearer, the thought struck him that she seemed 
paler than usual. He hesitated what to do, but he 
plucked up courage at last, and creeping behind her, 
laid his hand confidingly on her shoulder, and said, 
‘‘ Mother, what is the matter? Are you angry with 
me ?”’ 

The woman turned round to look at him, but started 
back with a cry of horror. 

‘‘ What do you want with me, you frightful dwarf ?”’ 
she shrieked. ‘‘ Away with you! I will not bear such 
tom-foolery !”’ 

‘But, mother, what possesses you? Don’t you 
know me?” asked little Jacob, terrified. ‘‘ You are 
surely ill, Why do you drive your own son away from 
you?’ - 

‘‘T told you to begone,’’ answered Hanuah, angrily. 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 161 


“You will get no money from me by such tricks, you 
frightful abortion !”’ 

“Alas! God has taken away her understanding!” 
said Jacob, greatly alarmed. ‘‘ What shall I do to get 
her home? Dear mother, be reasonable a moment; 
look at me; I am your son, your own Jacob.” 

“‘Q, this is too shameless!’ cried Hannah to her 
neighbors. ‘‘ Look at this hideous dwarf; he stands 
here driving away all my customers, and dares to make 
a jest of my misfortunes. He calls himself my sdh, my 
own Jacob! the monster!”’ 

At this her neighbors gathered round, and began to 
scold him with all their might, — and market-women, 
you know, understand that art perfectly, — and abused 
him for jesting at poor Hannah’s unhappiness, who had 
had her pretty son stolen seven years before ; and they 
threatened to fall upon him and tear him to pieces, 
unless he went away instantly. 

Poor Jacob could not tell what to make of all this. 
He had come, as he believed, early this very morning, 
as usual, with his mother to the market-place. He had 
helped to set out her fruit; had afterwards gone to the 
house of the old woman, and dropped asleep for a few 
hours; and now here he was back again, and yet his 
mother and the neighbors talked about seven years ! 
and they called him a disgusting dwarf! ‘‘ What,’’ 
thought he, ‘‘can have happened to me?” Seeing 
that his mother would have nothing to say to him, his 
eyes filled with tears, and he went sadly down the 
street to the shop where his father mended shoes 
during the day. ‘I will see,’”’ he thought to himself, 
“whether he refuses to know me too. I will stand at 
the door and speak to him.’’ When he came to the 
shoemaker’s shop, he stopped at the door and looked 

14* 


162 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


in. - The shoemaker was so busy with his work that he 
did not see him at first; but casting accidentally a 
glance at the door, he dropped shoe, awl, and thread 
on the floor, and exclaimed in terror, ‘‘ For-God’s sake, 
what is that! what is that!”’ 

‘‘Good evening, master,’’ said the boy, coming into 
the shop. ‘‘ How do you do?”’ 

‘‘Badly, badly, little gentleman,’’ answered his 
father, to Jacob’s great astonishment; for he too 
appeated not to recognize him. ‘‘ Business comes in 
very slow. Iam all alone, and growing old now, and 
yet I can’t afford a journeyman.”’ 

‘‘But have you no son, who could be of assistance to 
you ?”’ inquired the boy. 

‘‘T had a son once, named Jacob, who ought to be 
now a slim, strong lad of twenty, able to tuck me 
cleverly under his arm. Ah! what a clever fellow he 
would have been! When he was only twelve years 
old he was so intelligent, and skilful, and understood 
even then so. many handy tricks, and was so pleasant 
and pretty! Ah! he would have drawn me customers, 
I’ll be bound! I should n’t have had to cobble much, 
I warrant. None but new shoes made here then! But 
so goes the world !”’ 

‘‘ But where is your son?” asked Jacob, in a trem- 
bling voice. 

‘God only knows,’’ he answered. ‘‘ Seven years 
ago, — yes, full that, — he was stolen from the market- 
place.”’ 

“‘Seven years ago!”’ cried Jacob, with horror. 

“Yes, little gentleman, seven years ago. I can see 
my wife, as if it were to-day, come crying and shrieking 
home, saying that the child had been away the whole 
day, and that she had hunted for him everywhere, and 


? 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 163 


could not find him. I always expected it would be so; for 
Jacob was a pretty boy, though I say it that should n’t 
say it, and my wife was very proud, and liked to hear 
people praise him, and often sent him with vegetables, 
and such like, to the great houses. That was all right ; 
he was always handsomely tipped; but, said I, take 
care ; the city is large ; many bad people live in it: take 
care of little Jacob! And so it turned out. There 
comes, at last, an ugly old woman to the market, bar- 
gains for fruit, and buys so much in the end that she 
can’t carry it home. My wife, tender soul! sends the 
little boy with her, and— he has never been seen from 
that day to this.” 

‘« And that is now seven years, you say ?”’ 

‘‘Seven years next spring. We sent the crier about ; 
we went ourselves from house to house asking for him. 
Many persons knew the handsome boy, and liked him, 
and hunted with us. But all in vain; and nobody 
knew the woman who bought the fruit. But a decrepit 
old lady, ninety years old, said it might possibly have 
been the wicked fairy, Krauterweis, who comes out 
once every fifty years to make purchases.” 

While saying this, Jacob’s father sat pounding his 
shoe bravely, and drawing out his threads with both 
fists. It was growing evident to the little lad that 
what he had gone through was no dream, and that he 
had actually served seven years as a squirrel with the 
wicked fairy. Anger and grief filled his heart almost to 
bursting. Seven years of his life the old hag had stolen 
from him, and what remuneration had he to show for 
it? He could polish slippers of cocoanut shell, and 
could clean chambers with floors of glass, and he had 
learned from the guinea-pigs the mysteries of cooking ! 
He stood thus a good while, thinking of his fate, and 


164 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


at last, his father asked him: ‘‘ Would you like some. 
thing of my manufacture, young gentleman? Perhaps 
a pair of slippers would suit you; or,’’ added he, laugh- 
ing, ‘‘ perhaps a leathern case for your nose ?”’ 

‘Why do you refer to my nose?” inquired Jacob. 
‘¢ Why should I like a case for it ?”’ 

‘‘ Nay,’’ answered the shoemaker ; ‘‘ every one to his 
taste ; but I must say, if I had such a terrible nose, I 
would have a case made for it at once of red shiny 
leather. Look, sir, I have a beautiful piece handy ; you 
would require a yard of it at least. But, consider how 
well you would be protected. With a case, you might 
knock it against every door-post ; you might even let a 
cart ‘run over it, and never hurt you.” 

The little fellow stood dumb with horror. He felt of 
his nose, and found it thick, heavy, and two feet long ! 
The old woman, then, had altered his shape! This was 
the reason why his mother did not know him, and why 
everybody called him a hideous dwarf! ‘ Master,” 
said he, half crying, ‘‘ have you a looking-glass at hand, 
in which I can look at myself?” 

“Young gentleman,’ answered his father gravely, 
‘you have no cause to be vain of the figure nature has 
given you, and no good reason to be looking all the 
time in the glass. Give up the habit, I advise you. In 
your case nothing can be more ridiculous.” 

‘« Alas! please let me look in your looking-glass,”’ 
cried the little fellow. ‘‘ Believe me, it is not from 
vanity.” 

‘‘ Don’t bother me, young gentleman. I haveno such 
thing in the shop,”’ replied the cobbler. ‘‘ My wife has 
a little one, I believe, but I don’t know where she hides 
it. If you must have a looking-glass, Urban, the bar- 
ber, lives across the street, and he has one twice as big 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 165 


as your head. Go look into his; and now, good-morn- 
ing.’”’ 

With these words, his father pushed him gently out 
of the shop, and, shutting the door behind him, went 
back to his work. The boy went across the street, in 
a very miserable state of mind, to Urban, the barber’s, 
whom he had known very well in former times. 

‘‘Good-morning, Urban,” said he to him. ‘I’ve 
come to beg asa favor that you will let me look a 
moment in your looking-glass.”’ 

“With all the pleasure in the world ; there it is,” 
cried the barber, laughing, and the customers waiting 
to be shaved laughed uproariously with him. ‘ You 
are a pretty lad, I must confess; so slender and grace- 
ful, with a neck like a swan, hands like a queen, and a 
nose which I never saw equalled! You have some 
reason to be vain, to be sure. Take a good look, sir; 
take a good look. Nobody shall say I refused you per- 
mission out of envy of your beauty.”’ 

A rude horse-laugh filled the barber’s shop, while the 
boy walked to the mirror and looked at his reflection. 
Tears streamed from his eyes as he gazed. ‘‘ No won- 
der you did not recognize your little son Jacob, dear 
mother,’ said he to himself. His eyes had grown. 
small like a pig’s; his nose was huge and hung down 
over his chin; his neck seemed to have disappeared, 
and his head was joined to his shoulders ; it was with 
the greatest difficulty he could turn it from one side to 
the other. His body was of the same size as it had been 
seven years previously, when he was twelve years of 
age; but, while others grew in height from twelve to 
twenty, he had only increased in breadth, and his back 
and breast were curved like a bow, and looked like 
a little, well-filled sack. This extraordinary trunk was 


166 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


supported on a pair of small, weak legs, very 1)- 
adapted to sustain the burthen, while the arms, which 
hung down at his sides, were as large as those of 
a well-grown man. His hands were yellow, and his 
fingers long and spidery, and, when he extended them 
to their full length, he could touch the ground without 
stooping. Such was little Jacob’s appearance as he 
looked in the glass. He had been changed into a small, 
misshapen dwarf. 

His thoughts went back to that morning when 
the old witch had examined his mother’s baskets. 
Everything which he had then ridiculed,— the long nose, 
the hideous fingers, — she had now given to him ; and the 
long, trembling neck was the only thing she had 
omitted. 

« Well, have you inspected yourself long enough, my 
prince?” said the barber, stepping up and looking him 
over with a laugh. ‘‘Upon my word, if a man should 
attempt to dream such a figure, he could never imagine 
one so comical. Come, I will make you an offer, my 
little man. My barber’s shop has a great deal of 
custom, of course, but, still, not so much as I should 
like. The reason is, my neighbor Lather, the barber, 
has picked up a giant somewhere, who draws cus- 
tomers. Now, a giant is one thing, but a manikin 
like you is another. Come into my service, little chap ; 
you shall be found everything, lodging, eating, drink- 
ing, clothes, pocket-money. Your duty shall be to 
stand at the door every morning, and invite the people 
in; or make the lather, and hand napkins to the 
- customers ; and you may feel sure we shall both of 
us make by it, —I get more customers than that fellow 
with the giant, and you will get pocket-money from 
everybody.” 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 167 


The boy felt, inwardly, bitterly outraged at the 
proposal that he should act as the barber’s decoy-bird. 
But he was in no condition to resent the insult; 
so he quietly told the barber that he had no time to 
spend in such occupations, and left the shop. 

Although the old harridan had changed his body, he 
felt a consciousness that she had failed to affect his 
mind, for he saw that his thoughts and feelings were 
no longer juvenile, as they had been seven years 
previously ; nay, he believed he had become much 
wiser and more intelligent in this interval. He did 
not mourn the loss of his* departed beauty, nor sigh 
at the ugliness of his present figure. His sole cause 
of unhappiness was that he had been hunted like 
a dog from his father’s door. He resolved to make 
another and final effort to convince his mother of his 
identity. 

He went up to her, as she sat in the market-place, 
and entreated her to listen patiently to his story. 
He reminded her of the day on which he had gone 
away with the old woman; he reminded her of all 
the little events of his childhood; he then told her 
that he had served seven years with the fairy, as a 
squirrel, and that she had transformed him because 
he had once insulted her. The shoemaker’s wife knew 
not what to think. Everything was true which he had 
told concerning his childhood, but when he added 
that he had been a squirrel for seven years, she said: 
“Tt is impossible, and there are no such things as 
fairies ;’’ and when she looked at him, she shuddered 
with disgust, and would not believe him to be her son.. 
She decided, at last, that she had better consult 
with her husband ; so she collected her baskets together 


“ 


168 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and directed him to follow. They went to the shoe- 
maker’s shop together. 

‘‘Husband,”’ said she, ‘‘see here; this man insists 
that he is our son Jacob. He has told me everything, 
how he was stolen seven years ago, and how he has 
been bewitched by a fairy.” 

‘‘Indeed!’’ interrupted the cobbler, in a contempt- 
uous tone. ‘Has he been telling you all this? The 
scoundrel! Why, I told him the whole story not 
an hour ago, and now he goes and makes a fool of you. 
So you have been bewitched, my man? Wait a minute, 
and I will exorcise you.”’ Saying this, he took down a 
bundle of straps, which he had just cut, and, springing 
on the little pigmy, beat him over his crooked back and 
long arms, till the dwarf shrieked with pain and ran 
away crying. 

In that city, as everywhere else, there were very few 
compassionate souls, ready to assist an unfortunate 
person, whose misery rendered him also ridiculous. 
Hence it was, that our unhappy dwarf went the whole 
day without food or drink, and at night was forced 
to make his bed as best he might on the cold, hard 
steps of a church. 

When the early beams of the rising sun awoke him 
the next morning from his slumbers, he considered 
seriously how he should earn his daily bread, since his 
father and mother had repudiated him. He had too 
much pride to act as a barber’s decoy-duck, and he 
was unwilling to hire himself to a showman, and be 
exhibited for money. What was he to do? It oc- 
‘curred to his recollection, that, during his squirrel 
existence, he had made much progress in the science 
of cookery ; and he believed, with good reason, that he 
might venture to back his skill against many a cook of 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 169 


high reputation. He resolved to avail himself of his 
accomplishments. 

As soon as the streets grew busy, and the day 
had really begun, he entered the church, and performed 
his devotions, and then set about the accomplishment 
of his plans. The duke of the country was a notorious 
glutton and gormandizer, fond of a good table, and 
hunting for skilful cooks in every quarter of the globe. 
Our dwarf betook himself to his palace. Coming 
to the outer gate, the sentries at the door demanded 
his business, and made him the butt of their brutal 
ridicule ; but, undisturbed by their laughter, he in- 
quired for the director of the kitchen. They conducted 
him through the court-yard into the palace, and, wher- 
ever he appeared, all the servants stopped in what 
they were about, stared after him, and, laughing up- 
roariously, joined the procession, so that by degrees 
a large train of servants of every degree approached 
_ the palace stairs ; the hostlers threw down their curry- 
combs, the runners ran, the carpet-cleaners forgot to 
beat their carpets; all crowded after the misshapen 
pigmy. There was an uproar as if an enemy were at the 
gates, and the air was filled with a universal cry of: 
“A dwarf! a dwarf! Have you seen the dwarf?”’ 

At this moment the superintendent of the palace 
appeared at the door, with an angry look on his 
face, and a huge whip in his hand. ‘For heaven’s 
sake, ye hounds, why this noise? Do you forget 
that the duke is asleep?”’ And, swinging his whip 
round his head, he brought it down heavily on the 
backs of the hostlers and sentries. ‘Sir! sir!’’ cried 
they, ‘‘don’t you see? we are bringing a dwarf, —a 
dwarf, such as you never saw in your life.” 

The superintendent with difficulty suppressed a 

15 


170 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


stentorian laugh, when he caught sight of the diminu- 
tive lad; for he feared, by laughing, to injure his dig- 
nity. So, driving the rabble away with his whip, he led 
the boy into the palace, and inquired his business. 
When he heard that the latter desired to see the head 
cook, he replied: ‘‘ You have made a mistake, my 
little fellow ; you want to see me, the superintendent of 
the palace, Iam sure. You would be the duke’s dwarf, 
would you not?” 

‘*No, your honor,’”’ answered the dwarf; ‘‘I am a 
skilful cook, and learned in the composition of all rare 
delicacies for the table. Would you be so good as 
to take me to the chief cook? Perhaps he may find my 
services useful.” 

‘‘Every one to his taste, little man; but you are 
a foolish chap, and don’t know your own good. The 
kitchen you want, is it? As the duke’s dwarf, now, 
you would have had no work to do, beautiful clothes to 
wear, and as much to eat and drink as your heart could 
wish. However, we shall see. Your skill in cooking 
will hardly amount to what is wanted in the duke’s 
cook, and you are too good for a scullion.”’ 

With these words, the superintendent took him by 
the hand, and led him into the pantry of the overseer of 
the kitchen. 

«Excellent sir,’’ said the dwarf to the overseer, bow- 
ing so low that he rubbed his long nose against the 
carpet, ‘“‘ Are you in want of a skilful cook ?”’ 

The director of the kitchen looked him all over from 
head to foot, and burst into a loud laugh. ‘ What!” 
he cried; ‘‘ you acook! Do you think our ovens are 
low enough for a little fellow like you to look into, 
without standing on tiptoe and stretching your head 
clean off your shoulders? You little jewel, whoever 


) 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 171 


has sent you to me for a cook, has sent you on a fool’s 
errand.” Saying this, the director laughed heartily, in 
chorus with the superintendent and all the servants 
who were in the room. 

The dwarf, however, was not to be diverted from his 
purpose. “What matters an egg or two,” said he, 
“and alittle sirup and wine, with a little meal and 
spice, in a house like this? Only give me some dainty 
trifle to get up, and find me what I need for it, and 
I will get it ready before your eyes, so that you shall 
be compelled to say, ‘He is a cook of science and 
genius.’’”? The dwarf continued to urge these and 
similar arguments, his eyes gleaming, his long nose 
twisting, and his spidery fingers working, as if empha- 
sizing his words. ‘‘ Very well!” said the director, at 
length, taking the superintendent by the arm. ‘‘ Very 
well, for the joke’s sake, so be it ; come.” 

They passed through several halls and corridors, and 
came at last to the kitchen. This was a lofty, spacious 
apartment, nobly arranged and fitted up; huge fires 
burned on twenty hearths; a stream of transparent 
water flowed down the middle, containing~fish ; the 
provisions were stored in compartments of marble and 
costly woods, ever ready to the hand; and on either 
side were ten store-rooms, in which were gathered in 
large quantities whatever rare and choice delicacies can 
be found for man’s palate in all Europe and the East. 
Servants of every grade were running to and fro, rat- 
tlng and clattering among pots and pans; but the 
instant the director entered the kitchen every one stood 
motionless, in whatever part of the room he chanced to 
be, and the only sounds to be heard in the apartment 
were the crackling of the fire and the rippling of the 
stream. 


172 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


*« What has the duke ordered for breakfast, this morn- 
ing?” the director inquired of the chief breakfast-cook, 
an old and venerable man. 

‘« My lord, he has ordered the Danish soup, and red 
Hamburg dumplings.” 

“Good,” said the director. ‘‘ You heard the duke’s 
orders, my little man? Do you think you can cook 
these difficult articles? You will certainly fail in the 
dumplings, for their manufacture is a secret.” 

‘‘ Nothing easier,’’ said the dwarf, to the general sur- 
prise of those present; he had often prepared these 
delicacies while a squirrel. ‘‘ Nothing easier. Let me 
have, for the soup, such and such herbs, such and such 
spices, the feet of a wild pig, and greens and eggs. 
But for the dumplings,”’ said he, in a lower tone, so that 
only the director and the breakfast-cook might hear, 
‘‘for the dumplings I need meat of four sorts, some 
duck’s fat, a little ginger, and a certain herb called 
Magentrost (stomach-warmer).”’ 

‘Ho! by Saint Benedict! Of what magician have 
you learned your art? ”’ cried the cook, in astonishment. 
‘‘ He has described the receipt to a hair; and the herb 
Magentrost we knew nothing about. Ay, that must be 
avast improvement. QO, you miracle among cooks! ”’ 

‘‘T should never have thought it,’’ said the superin- 
tendent. ‘‘ However, let him give us a proof of his 
skill. Give him the things he wants, utensils and all, 
and let him get up the breakfast.” 

The servants were told to obey his orders, and every- 
thing was placed in readiness on the hearth. But it 
was found that his nose scarcely reached the level of 
the fireplace. Two chairs were therefore set together, 
a block of marble placed on them, and the little prodigy 
invited to commence his demonstration. The cooks, 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 173 


scullions, and servants, stood round in a wide circle, 
and witnessed with astonishment the dexterity and nim- 
bleness of his hands, and the delicacy and elegance of 
the results of his labors. When he had completed all 
his preliminary arrangements, he directed that both the 
pots should be set on the fire and permitted to simmer 
till he should give the word; then he began to count, 
one, two, three, and so on, till, exactly at five hundred, 
he cried out, ‘‘Halt!’’ The pots were taken off the 
fire, and the dwarf invited the director to taste. 

The master-cook caused one of the scullions to bring 
him a golden spoon, and; washing it in the brook, 
handed it to the director. The latter stepped to the 
hearth with a solemn air, took up a little of the food in 
the spoon, and, tasting it, shut his eyes and smacked 
his lips with delight, exclaiming : 

‘‘Delicious! by the life of the duke, delicious! 
Would you like a spoon, superintendent ? ”’ 

The latter bowed, took the spoon, and tasted, and 
was beside himself with delight. ‘‘ With all respect 
for your great skill, breakfast-maker, and I know you 
to be a very accomplished man, you have never made. 
in all your life such admirable soup, and such delicious 
Hamburg dumplings as these.” . 

The cook now tasted in his turn, and, shaking the 
dwarf with reverence by the hand, said to him, ‘ Pig- 
my, you are a master of your profession! That Magen- 
trost does indeed impart a unique and miraculous flavor 
to the entire compound.” : 

At this moment the duke’s groom of the chambers 
entered the kitchen, and said that his grace was inquir- 
ing for his breakfast. The soup and dumplings were 
straightway served upon silver dishes, and sent to the 
duke, the director of the kitchen meanwhile taking the 

15* 


174 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


little wonder into his private room to converse with him. 
They had been there hardly as long as it takes to recite 
a paternoster (which is a sort of prayer of the Franks, 
my lord, not half as long as the prayers of true believ- 
ers), when a message came, summoning the director 
into the duke’s presence. He put on a dress-suit as 
rapidly as he could, and followed the messenger. 

The duke’s countenance wore an expression of ex- 
treme satisfaction. He had swallowed the whole con- 
tents of the silver dishes, and was wiping his beard as 
the director entered. ‘‘ Look, director,’’ said the duke, 
‘“‘T have been invariably delighted with your cooks ; 
but tell me who it was that cooked my breakfast this 
morning. It was never so delicious since I mounted 
the throne of my ancestors. Tell me the name of the 
cook, that I may send him a token of my gratitude.” 

“‘Please your highness, it’s a wonderful story,’ 
answered the director of the kitchen, and told him how, 
early that morning, a dwarf had been brought to him, 
who insisted on being a cook, and how everything had 
turned out. The duke, greatly surprised, called the 
dwarf into his presence, and asked him who he was, and 
whence he came. Of course little Jacob could not tell 
the duke that he had been bewitched, and had been 
serving hitherto in the capacity of a squirrel. Still he 
adhered to the truth when he stated that he was with- 
out father or mother, and had studied his art with an 
old woman. The duke inquired no further, but made 
merry over the extraordinary figure of his new cook. 

“Tf you will stay in my service,’”’ said he, ‘‘ your 
wages shall be fifty ducats a year, besides a suit of 
clothes and two extra pairs of trousers. In return, you 
must cook my breakfast every day with your own hands, 
look after the dressing of my dinner, and take general 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 175 


charge of my kitchen. As every one in my palace re- 
‘eeives his name from me, your name shall be Nosey, 
and you shall hold the rank of sub-kitchen-inspector.”’ 

Nosey fell at the feet of the mighty duke, and, kiss- 
ing his shoes, swore to serve him faithfully. 

Thus, at length, was the little fellow well provided 
for ; and his subsequent efforts covered his office with 
glory. It can be safely asserted that the duke was a 
different man during Nosey’s administration. Hitherto 
he had often been pleased to throw the dishes and plates 
at his cook’s head: nay, he once struck the director 
himself so violently on the head with a baked calf’s foot, 
which he declared was too tough, that he fell senseless 
to the ground, and was obliged to keep his bed three 
days. To be sure, the duke repaired whatever damages 
his anger inflicted, by the gift of handfuls of ducats ; 
but, notwithstanding, his cooks never entered his high- 
ness’ presence without fear and trembling. Since the 
arrival of the dwarf, however, everything seemed magi- 
cally changed. The duke now took five instead of three 
meals every day, so as to get the full benefit of his 
diminutive servant’s skill, and never showed the faint- 
est indication of discontent. On the contrary, every- 
thing the dwarf prepared he declared to be original - 
and excellent. He became amiable and Sonnenceneaaa 
and grew fatter every day. 

He frequently summoned the kitchen-director and 
Nosey into his presence while dining, and, seating one 
on his right hand and the other on his left, would shove 
bits of the choicest delicacies into their mouths with his 
own fingers, an honor which both well knew how to 
appreciate. 

The dwarf was the wonder of the city. People 
craved of the kitchen-director, with tears in their eyes, 


176 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


to be permitted to see the sub-inspector cook, and some 
of the most distinguished men of the dukedom obtained 
permission to send their servants to the royal kitchen 
_to take lessons from Nosey by the hour; a proceeding 
which brought him in no little money, for each paid a 
half ducat daily. To keep the other cooks in good- 
humor, and prevent any feeling of jealousy, Nosey 
resigned to them all the money which the gentlemen 
paid for the instruction of their servants. 

In this way Nosey passed two years in extreme com- 
fort and honor; and the only reflection causing him a 
pang was the memory of his parents. Thus he lived, 
with nothing remarkable to disturb the even tenor of 
his way, till the following event occurred. Being ex- 
ceedingly skilful and fortunate in his purchases, he went 
in person, as often as time permitted him, to the market, 
to procure poultry and fruit for the duke’s table. He 
went one morning to the goose-market, and made in- 
quiries for fat geese, of which his highness was ex- 
tremely fond. His appearance, so far from exciting 
laughter and ridicule, inspired the greatest respect and 
veneration, for he was well known as the duke’s famous 
master-cook, and every market-woman felt herself fortu- 
nate if he so much as turned his nose in her direction. 
* He saw at length a woman sitting in a corner, at the 
extreme end of the row, who had geese for sale like 
the rest, but who did not, like them, commend her wares 
or shout to buyers to come and purchase. He went up 
to her and examined and weighed her geese. They 
proved to be such as he wanted, and, buying three, 
with the cage containing them, hoisted them upon his 
broad shoulders and trudged back to the palace. It 
struck him as singular that only two of the geese gab- 
bled and screamed like common birds, while the third 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 177 


sat perfectly silent and absorbed, heaving deep sighs, 
and groaning like a human being. ‘‘ This one is sick,” 
said he to himself; ‘‘ 1 must make haste to kill and dress 
her.”” The goose answered, in a perfectly distinct and 
audible voice : 


**One movement of thy murd’rous knife, 
And instant snaps thy thread of life! 
By fear, if not by love, be stayed ; 
Then, stranger, spare, O, spare thy blade ! ’’ 


Nosey the dwarf, much terrified, set down his cage 
on the ground, and the goose, sighing profoundly, 
gazed at him with her beautiful, intelligent eyes. ‘‘The 
deuce !’’ cried Nosey. ‘‘So you can talk, Miss Goose? 
I should never have thought it. Nay, never be so 
down-hearted. Men are no fools, and no one would 
put an end to so rare a bird. But I lay a wager, you 
have not always worn feathers. I myself was once a 
filthy squirrel.”’ 

“You are right,’ answered the goose; ‘‘I was not 
born to this ignominious body. Alas! it was not sung 
to me in my cradle, that Mimi, the daughter of the great 
Wetterbock, was to be slain in the kitchen of a duke.’’’ 

‘Make your mind easy, my dear Miss Mimi,” said 
the dwarf, consolingly. ‘‘ As surely as I am an honest 
fellow, and sub-kitchen-inspector to his highness the 
duke, no one shall touch a hair of your head. I will 
give you a coop in my private room; you shall have 
food in abundance, and I will devote all my leisure time 
to your entertainment. Iwill tell the rest of the kitchen 
gentlemen that I am fattening a goose for the duke with 
a variety of choice herbs; and, as soon as I find a good 
opportunity, I will set you at liberty.” 

The goose thanked him with tears in her eyes, and 


178 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the dwarf fulfilled his promise to the letter. He slaugh- 
tered the two other geese, but built for Mimi a private 
coop in his own chamber, and gave out that he was fat- 
tening her for the duke’s especial eating. He did not 
furnish her the food usually given to geese, but supplied 
her with pastry and sweetmeats. All his spare time he 
spent in conversing with and consoling her. In return 
she told him her story ; and Nosey learned in this way 
that the goose was the daughter of the wizard Wetter- 
bock, who lived on the island of Gothland; that he 
had a quarrel with an old fairy, who had vanquished 
him by fraud and artifice, and, having changed her 
into a goose by way of revenge, had brought her hither, 
a great distance from her native country. When 
Nosey had told her his story, also, she said: ‘I have 
some experience in such matters. My father has given 
me and my sisters as much insight into them as he dared 
to communicate. Your account of the dispute over the 
vegetable baskets, your sudden transformation on smell- 
ing of that herb, and some words let fall by the old 
woman, which you repeated to me, all convince me 
that you are under the magical influence of some plant ; 
and, if you can find the herb which the old fairy used 
for your enchantment, you can be released.”’ 

Poor consolation was this for our diminutive hero, for 
where was he to find the required vegetable ? But he 
expressed his thanks for the information, and began to 
cherish some little hope. 

About this time the duke received a visit from a 
neighboring prince, his friend. He summoned Nosey, 
the dwarf, before him, and said: ‘“‘ The time has now 
arrived when you must show yourself a faithful servant, 
as well as a master of your profession. This prince, who 
is now making us a visit, is, next to me, the most dis- 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 179 


tinguished gourmand living. Be careful, therefore, that 
my table is so attended to that he shall be thrown into 
profounder admiration every day. With this view, you 
must never, under fear of my displeasure, produce the 
same dish twice. You can obtain from my treasurer 
whatever sums you need. And, if you find yourself 
obliged to cook diamonds and gold, do so without hesi- 
tation. I prefer being impoverished to blushing before 
my guest.” 

So spake the duke, and the dwarf answered with a 
respectful bow: ‘‘It shall be as you say, your high- 
ness. God willing, everything I make shall be suited 
precisely to the taste of this prince of good-livers.”’ 

The little cook now summoned to his aid all the 
resources of his art. He had no mercy on the duke’s 
treasury, and was still less lenient to himself. He was 
seen the whole day long enveloped in a cloud of 
fire and smoke, and his voice sounded incessantly 
through the arches of the kitchen; for he ruled the 
under-cooks and scullions like a sovereign. — My Lord 
Sheik, I might do here as the camel-drivers of Aleppo 
do, in the stories they tell to travellers, when they 
undertake to describe a sumptuous feast. They enlarge 
by the hour together on every dish set before the 
guests, awakening thereby great appetites in their 
listeners, who, in consequence, involuntarily alter their 
intentions, and halt for dinner, of which, you may be 
sure, the camel-drivers get an ample share. But I hold 
this custom more honored in the breach than in the 
observance, and shall avoid it. 

The foreign prince had already staid a fortnight with 
the duke, and feasted royally. They devoured not less 
than five meals a day, and the duke was well satisfied 
with his cook’s efforts, for he saw contentment in the 


180 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


features of his guest. On the fifteenth day, however, 
it happened that his highness called the dwarf into his 
presence, and, presenting him to the prince, asked him 
if his dwarf had pleased him. 

“You are a wonderful cook,’’ answered the foreign 
prince. ‘‘ During the whole time I have been here, 
you have not repeated a single dish, and everything 
has been cooked sublimely. But, pray explain why 
you have delayed so long in producing that queen of 
delicacies, the pie Souzeraine ? ”’ 

The dwarf was much startled, for he had never heard 
of this pastry-queen; but, summoning his presence of 
mind, he answered: ‘‘ May it please your highness, I 
was in hopes that your presence might still long illumi- 
nate this court, and for this reason I delayed this sov- 
ereign dish. For with what should your slave testify 
his veneration at your departure, if not with the pie 
Souzeraine ? ” 

“‘So,”’? answered the duke, laughing, ‘“‘in my case 
you intended to wait till the day of my death before tes- 
tifying your veneration. For, I remember, you have 
never sent up to me this wonderful pastry. But you 
must devise some other testimonial, for to-morrow you 
must furnish us with the pie Souzeraine.”’ 

‘©Your will is law, your highness,’ answered the 
dwarf, and withdrew. His mind was much agitated, 
for the day of his disgrace was at hand He could not 
imagine the composition of this pie, and retired to his 
private room, weeping over his unhappy fate. While 
thus engaged, Mimi the goose, who had the run of his 
chamber, inquired the cause of his lamentations. 

‘‘Dry your tears,’’ said she, when she had heard of 
the pie Souzeraine ; ‘‘ this dish came often to my fath- 
er’s table, and I know nearly all its ingredients. You 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 181 


take this and that, so much and so much; and, even 
supposing these are not all that are necessary, the 
tastes of your master and his friend are not delicate 
enough to discover the deficiencies.” 

At these words of Mimi, the dwarf sprang up de- 
lighted, and, blessing the day on which he had bought 
the goose, set at once about preparing the queen of 
pies. He made a little at first by way of experiment, 
and its flavor was so delicious that the director of the 
kitchen department, to whom he gave a little to taste, 
again glorified his inimitable genius. 

Next day he prepared a similar pie, of larger size, 
and sent it to the royal table, warm from the oven, and 
decorated. with wreaths of flowers. He himself slipped 
on his best court-suit, and took his post in the dining- 
hall. At the moment he entered, the head carver was 
cutting up the pie and handing it to the duke and his 
guest on silver plates. The duke swallowed a huge 
mouthful, and, casting his eyes up to the ceiling, said, 
after gulping it down: ‘‘Ah! ah! ah! this pie is justly 
called the pastry-queen ; and my cook is no less the 
pastry-king ; is he not, my friend ?”’ 

His guest took a small piece on his plate, and, having 
tasted it with great attention, burst into a scornful 
laugh. ‘‘ This thing is well made,’”’ he answered, push- 
ing away his plate, ‘‘but it is not quite up to the Souze- 
raine. I expected as much.”’ 

The duke wrinkled his forehead with rage, and 
blushed with mortification. ‘‘ Hound of a dwarf! ’”’ he 
cried, ‘‘ how dare you play this trick on your master ? 
Must I have your big head chopped off as a punishment 
for your infamous cookery ?” 

“‘ Alas! my lord, I swear to heaven I cooked the 

16 


182 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


dish by all the rules of art; failure is impossible,” 
replied the dwarf, in an agony of terror. 

“It is a lie, you knave !’’ shouted the duke, kicking 
him from one end of the room to the other. ‘“ Do you 
think the prince would say so, if it were not? I will 
have you chopped to pieces and baked in a pie your- 
self !”’ 

“Have mercy!” cried the pigmy, falling on his 
knees, and embracing the prince’s feet. ‘‘ Say, sire, 
what is wanting to this pastry, to render it acceptable 
to your palate? Suffer me not to die for a handful of 
meat and flour! ”’ 

“It will be useless to tell you, my dear Nosey,’’ 
answered the stranger with a laugh. ‘‘I was thinking 
all yesterday that you could not make this pie like 
my cook. But, if you must know, it needs an herb, 
unknown to any one in this country, called Sneeze- 
with-pleasure ; without this the pie is without flavor, 
and your master will never eat it as I do.”’ 

The duke was boiling with rage. ‘ But I will eat 
it,” he cried, his eyes sparkling with fury; ‘for I 
swear by my princely honor, either I will show it to 
you to-morrow as you want it, or the head of this 
scoundrel here shall disfigure the gate of my palace. 
Go, dog! I give you four-and-twenty hours’ time to 
retrieve yourself.” 

The dwarf repaired to his chamber, and told the 
goose with many tears that his death was near, for he 
had never heard of the herb Sneeze-with-pleasure. 

“Ts that all ?’’ said she ; ‘‘ then I can soon help you, 
for my father taught me every herb that grows. At 
any other time your death were certain, but fortunately 
to-night is the new-moon, and at this time the plant is 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 183 


in flower. Tell me, are there any old chestnut-trees 
near the palace ?”’ 

‘‘Yes, indeed,’’ answered the dwarf with reviving 
courage. ‘‘A large group of them stands on the lake- 
shore, not two hundred paces from the house. But 
why do you ask?”’ 

‘‘This herb grows only at the foot of old chestnut- 
trees,’’ said Mimi. ‘‘ Let us lose no time, but seek for 
it at once. Take me under your arm, and set me down 
when you get into the open air. I will help you hunt 
for it.”’ 

He did as she directed, and went with her to the 
palace gate. But the sentinel there held out his mus- 
ket, saying, ‘‘ My dear Nosey, it is all up with you. I 
have positive orders not to let you leave the palace.” 

‘‘But surely I can go into the garden?” answered 
the dwarf. ‘‘ Be obliging now; send one of your com- 
rades to the superintendent, and ask him whether I may 
not go‘into the garden and hunt for herbs.” 

The sentinel assented, and permission was given ; 
for the garden had high walls, and escape from it was 
inconceivable. As soon as the dwarf reached the open 
air, he set Mimi carefully down, and she went before 
him rapidly to the lake-shore, where stood the chestnut- 
trees. He followed her with a beating heart, for it 
was his last and only hope. Should she fail to find the 
herb, his resolve was taken unalterably to throw him- 
self into the water, rather than submit to be beheaded. 
The goose sought everywhere in vain, wandering about 
under the chestnut-trees, and turning over every tuft 
of grass with her bill. The herb was nowhere to be 
found, and she began to cry with compassion and 
anguish; for the evening was growing darker, and 


184 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


objects around becoming more and more difficult to 
recognize. 

The dwarf’s eyes were turned to the opposite shore 
of the lake, and he suddenly cried : ‘‘ See, see, there is 
a large, old tree on the other side yonder! Let us go 
there and search; perhaps the herb is growing there.” 

The goose hopped and flew to the spot, and he ran 
after, as fast as his little legs would let him. The chest- 
nut-tree cast a vast shadow, and it was so dark in its 
vicinity that scarcely anything could be discerned. 
But the goose suddenly came to a halt, and, clapping 
her wings with joy, thrust her head into the tall grass, 
and plucked out something which she gave in her bill 
to the astonished dwarf with great caution, saying: 
“‘This is your herb, and a great abundance of it is 
growing here; so it will never fail you in future.” 

The dwarf gazed at the plant in deep thought; a 
sweet odor was streaming from it, which reminded him 
involuntarily of the scene of his transformation. The 
stalk and leaves were a bluish-green, and supported a 
crimson flower with a yellow edge. 

‘God be praised!’’ he cried, after a pause. ‘‘A 
miracle! Do you know, Mimi, I think this is the same 
plant which changed me from a squirrel into this hide- 
ous shape? Shall I make the trial ?”’ 

“Not yet,’’ entreated the goose. ‘‘ Take a handful 
of this herb with you, go with me to your room, collect 
your money and the rest of your property, and then we 
will try the power of this plant.” 

Obedient to her directions, the dwarf carried her back 
to his chamber, his heart beating audibly from exces- 
sive anxiety. After tying about fifty ducats, the 
amount of his savings, with some clothes and shoes 
into a bundle, he said: ‘‘ Please God, I will now get 


NOSEY, THE DWARF. 185 


rid of my burthen ;”’ and, thrusting his nose deep into 
the flower, he took a long, strong sniff of the fragrance. 

He instantly felt a snapping in all his limbs, and was 
conscious that his head was rising from his shoulders. 
He took a look at his nose, and saw that it was grow- 
ing smaller and smaller. His back and breast began 
to straighten, and his legs grew longer and bigger. 

The goose gazed in astonishment at all these changes. 
‘‘Ha! how large, how handsome you are!” she ex- 
claimed. ‘‘ God be praised! there is not a particle left 
of what you were a moment ago.”’ 

Jacob was rejoiced beyond measure, and in the 
abundance of his gratitude folded his hands and prayed. 
But his joy did not cause him to forget the extent of 
his obligations to Mimi. His heart impelled him to fly 
at once to his parents, but he repressed the impulse, 
and said to his invaluable ally: ‘‘ Whom have I to 
thank but you, that I am restored again to myself? 
Without you I should never have found this herb ; 
without you I should have retained forever this fright- 
ful figure, or perhaps have died under the headsman’s 
axe. Come! I will requite you. I will take you to 
your father. He, who is so skilful in all the arts of 
magic, will be able to disenchant you without diffi- 
culty.” 

The goose shed tears of pleasure, and accepted his 
proposal. Jacob passed unrecognized out of the pal- 
- ace, and set forth on the road to the sea-coast to find 
Mimi’s home. 

What more shall I say, my lord sheik, except that 
they accomplished their journey successfully; that 
Wetterbock disenchanted his daughter, and dismissed 
Jacob, laden with splendid presents; that he returned 
to his native land, and his parents recognized with 

16* 


186 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


delight their long-lost son; that he purchased a shop 
with the gifts which he had received from Wetterbock, 
and that he became a rich, happy and successful man ? 

I will only add, that a tremendous excitement took 
place at the palace, after the dwarf’s flight; for when, 
on the following day, the duke made ready to perform 
his oath, and gave orders to strike off the dwarf’s head 
if he had not procured the required herb, he was, of 
course, nowhere to be found; and the foreign prince, 
suspecting that the duke had secretly removed the cul- 
prit, in order to avoid depriving himself of his best cook, 
accused him of being faithless to his pledge. As a 
_necessary result, a great war arose between the two 
princes, well known in history by the name of ‘‘ The 
Vegetable War.’’? Many battles were fought, and 
much injury inflicted on either side; but, in the end, a 
peace was made, which Europeans call ‘‘The Pastry 
Peace,’’ because, at the feast given in honor of the rec- 
onciliation of the two nations, the prince’s cook was 
sent for, for the express purpose of providing the Souze- 
raine, the queen of pies, for the royal table, where the 
duke devoured it with intense satisfaction. 

Thus, as you see, my lord sheik, the greatest results 
often flow from the smallest causes; and this is the his- 
tory of Nosey, the dwarf. 





Such was the story told by the European. After he 
had ended, Ali Banu directed fruit to be served to him - 
and the other slaves, for their refreshment, and con- 
versed, while they ate, with his friends sitting near 
him. The youths, whom the old stranger had intro- 
duced, were overflowing with admiration for the sheik, 
his house, and all his arrangements. ‘‘ Upon my honor,” 
said the young clerk, ‘‘there is no pleasanter way of 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 187 


passing one’s time than in listening to stories. I could 
sit in this way the whole day long, my legs crossed 
under me, my arm resting on a cushion, my head reclin- 
ing on one hand and the sheik’s big water-pipe in the 
other, and hear stories. I imagine Mahommed’s paradise 
to be something like this.’ 

“So long as you are young, and can work,” said the 
old man, ‘‘ you cannot be serious in such a lazy wish. 
But there 7s a peculiar charm, I grant, in listening to a 
well-told story. Old as I am, —and I am now entering 
my seventy-seventh year, —much as I have heard during 
my long life, I am never too proud, when a story-teller 
sits in the corner with a wide circle of attentive listen- 
ers about him, to fall into the ranks, and lend a de- 
lighted ear to his recital. One fancies himself then 
among the circumstances he describes; one lives for 
the time with the wonderful spirits, the fairies, and sim- 
ilar beings, who form the dramatis persone of a story- 
teller’s tale; and afterwards, when alone, one has the 
material by which to call up the scene again before his 
imagination, as an experienced traveller has always the 
means to supply himself with food, though travelling 
through the pathless desert.”’ 

“‘T have never reflected,”’ said another of the young 
men, ‘‘ wherein lies the charm of such stories as these. 
But I agree with you. When a child I could be 
instantly soothed to silence by the promise of a story. 
What it treated of, so it was only told, so some- 
thing only happened, was perfectly immaterial. How 
often I have listened unfatigued to those fables, 
invented by wise men, and in which they have en- 
shrined a kernel of their wisdom, of the fox and the 
foolish raven, the fox and the wolf, and scores of fables 
of lions and other animals. When I grew older, and 


188 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


mingled more with men, these short stories ceased to 
please me. I wanted them longer, and liked to have 
them treat of human beings, and marvellous adven- 
tures.”’ 

‘‘ Ay, I remember those times perfectly,’’ interrupt- 
ed one of his friends. ‘‘It was you who inspired us 
with our thirst for narrative. One of your slaves knew 
as many stories as a camel-driver of Medina, and, as 
soon as his work was done, it was his duty, you recol- 
lect, to join us on the lawn before your house, and 
there tell us adventures till the night was far ad- 
vanced.”’ 

‘« And on such occasions,’’ said the clerk, ‘‘ did not a 
new and unknown realm unfold itself, —a land of genii 
and fairies, luxurious with wonders of the vegetable 
world, adorned with palaces of emeralds and rubies, 
peopled by slaves of gigantic size, who appeared when 
you turned a ring about on your finger, or rubbed a 
lamp, or uttered an incantation of Solomon, and who 
brought sumptuous feasts in golden dishes? We felt 
ourselves irresistibly citizens of those lands; we made 
wonderful voyages with Sindbad; we walked in the 
evenings with Haroun al Raschid, the commander of 
the faithful; we knew Giaffar, his grand vizier, as well 
as we knew ourselves. In short, we lived in those 
fables, as a man lives in his dreams; and no part of the 
day was so pleasant to us as the afternoons when we 
assembled on the lawn, and your old slave told us sto- 
ries by the hour. Tell us, old friend, why is it, that we 
took so much pleasure then in listening to tales, that 
even now we can find no more delightful entertain- 
ment ?’”’ 

The sensation manifested in the hall at this point, 
and the calls for silence uttered by the overseer of the 


ABNER, THE JEW. 189 


slaves, prevented the old man from answering. The 
young friends were in doubt whether to be glad that 
they were about to listen to a new tale, or to regret the 
interruption to their conversation with the aged stran- 
ger; but a second slave now rose from his seat, and 
began thus: 


ABNER, THE JEW, WHO HAD SEEN NOTHING. 


My Lord Sheik, my native place is Mogadore, on the 
shores of the great sea; and at the time the all-powerful 
Emperor Muley Ismael reigned over Morocco, a story 
circulated among the people, which you would perhaps 
be pleased to hear. It is the history of ‘‘ Abner, the 
Jew, who had seen nothing.” 

Jews, as you know, are found the world over, and 
they are everywhere Jews; crafty, with eyes like a 
falcon’s for the smallest advantage ; cunning, and the 
more so the more they are abused ; fertile in expedient, 
and ever on the watch for gain. But that this excess 
of subtlety sometimes brings about a Jew’s discomfit- 
ure, is proved by the example of Abner, on the occa- 
sion of his taking a walk one evening outside the 
gates of Morocco. 

He walks along, with his pointed cap on his head 
and his scanty and dingy cloak on his back, taking 
from time to time a pinch of snuff from his golden box, 
which he keeps carefully out of sight, and stroking his 
long beard ; and, in spite of the restless eyes, which 
perpetual fear and anxiety, and the desire to discover 
something to add to his gains, keep in incessant mo- 
tion, his mobile features shine with selfsatisfaction. 


190 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


His appearance indicates that his business to-day has 
been successful ; and such is, indeed, the fact. Heisa 
physician, a merchant, a broker, —everything which 
brings him in money. He has bought a slave to-day 
with a secret blemish ; he has bought a camel’s load of 
gum at avery low price; and he has, above all, pre- 
pared the last draught for a sick man of great wealth, 
not with a view to his recovery, but to his decease. 

He had just left the borders of a little grove of palms 
and date-trees, when he heard behind him the shouts of 
a number of men, who came running at full speed in his 
direction. They were a body of imperial hostlers, with 
the superintendent of the stables at their head, and 
were throwing anxious glances on all sides, like men 
searching for something they had lost. 

‘‘Hollo, Mosey!’’ cried the superintendent, gasping 
for breath ; ‘‘ have you seen one of the imperial horses, 
with saddle and bridle on, run this way ? ”’ 

“The finest runner in the world ?”’ answered Abner; 
‘with very small hoofs, and shoes of fourteen-carat 
silver ; his hair shining like gold; fifteen hands high ; 
his tail three feet and a half long, and his bit made of 
twenty-two carat gold?” 

“The very one!” cried the superintendent. ‘‘ The 
very one!’’ cried the chorus of hostlers. ‘It is the 
Emir,” said an old groom. ‘I have told Prince Abdal- 
lah, at least a dozen times, he should ride the Emir with 
a snaffle. I know the beast. I have warned the prince 
he would throw him off; and I warned him as if I had 
to pay with my head for the pain in his back. But 
where is he? Which way did he go?” 

‘*T have seen no horse,” answered Abner, laughing. 
‘« How should I know which way he went? ”’ 

Astonished at this answer, the gentlemen of the sta- 


> ABNER, THE JEW. 191 


ble were on the point of insisting on a reply to their 
question, when another event happened to interrupt 
them. 

By a strange coincidence, such as so rarely comes to 
pass, the empress’ pet lap-dog had just escaped from 
the palace. A crowd of black slaves came up at full 
speed to the place where the hostlers were standing, 
shouting, as they approached: ‘‘ Have you seen the 
empress’ lap-dog about here ?”’ 

“Tt is not a dog you are looking for, I think, gentle- 
men,’ said Abner. ‘It is a female.’’ 

‘‘Exactly!’’ cried the chief eunuch, delighted.— 
** Aline, where are you ?.”’ 

“A small setter,’’? continued Abner, ‘‘ with long ears, 
a silky tail, and limps on the right fore-foot ?”’ 

‘‘ Her exact description to a hair!’’ cried the chorus 
of blacks. ‘‘ Aline, toa T. The empress fell into con- 
vulsions as soon as she was missed. Aline, where are 
you? What will become of us, if we go back to the 
harem without her? Quick! which way did she run ?”’ 

“‘T have seen no dog,’’ said Abner. ‘‘I never knew 
before that the empress— God bless her! — had a lap- 
dog.”’ 

The hostlers and slaves were furious at what they 
called Abner’s impudence, in cracking jokes over the 
property of their majesties, and doubted not for a mo- 
ment, so improbable were his denials, that he had stolen 
both horse and dog. While the rest continued the 
search, the head-hostler and the chief eunuch seized the 
Jew, and carried him, halflaughing, half-terrified, be- 
fore the emperor. 

Muley Ismael, furious with anger at hearing what 
had taken place, called together the council of the pal- 
ace, and, in consideration of the importance of the occa- 


192 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


sion, took the chair in person. As a commencement of 
the proceedings, fifty blows of the stick on the soles of 
his feet were adjudged to the accused. Let Abner cry 
or shriek, protest his innocence or promise full explana- 
tion, quote passages from the Scriptures or the Talmud, 
exclaim ‘‘ The anger of the emperor is like the roaring 
of a young lion, but his favor is as dew to the thirsty 
grass,” or ‘‘ Let not thy hand strike, if thine eyes and 
thine ears are closed,’’—in vain. The emperor gave 
the sign, and swore, by the beard of the Prophet and his 
own, the cockney should pay with his head for Prince 
Abdallah’s injuries and the empress’ fits, if the fugi- 
tives were not brought back again. 

The emperor’s palace was still echoing with the 
shrieks of the culprit when the news arrived that horse 
and dog had both been found. Aline had been discov- 
ered in the company of several pug-dogs, — very excel- 
lent characters, no doubt, but wholly unfitted for the 
society of a lady of the imperial court; and Emir, after 
running himself out of breath, had found the fresh grass 
of the meadows along the river Tara very toothsome, 
and far more acceptable than the emperor’s oats; as a 
royal huntsman, losing his way in the chase, forgets, 
over the black bread and sour butter which he finds in 
the countryman’s hut, all the luxuries of his sumptuous 
table. 

Muley Ismael demanded of Abner an explanation of 
his behavior; and the Jew saw himself at last in a con- 
dition to answer, which, after touching the earth thrice 
before his majesty’s throne with his forehead, he did in 
the following words: 

‘‘ All-powerful emperor, king of kings, ruler of the 
West, luminary of righteousness, mirror of truth, foun- 
tain of wisdom, radiant as pure gold, brilliant as the 


ABNER, THE JEW. | 193 


diamond, inflexible as iron, —since it is permitted to 
your paltry slave to raise his voice before your beam- 
ing face, hear me. I swear by the God of my fathers, 
by Moses and the prophets, that my eyes of flesh have 
never seen your majesty’s sacred horse, nor my adora- 
ble empress’ most lovely dog. Hearken to the expla- 
nation of the affair: 

‘7 was taking a walk to refresh myself, after the bur- 
then and heat of the day, in the little grove of palms, 
where I had the honor of meeting his excellency the 
head hostler of your venerable stables, and his vigilance 
the black superintendent of your blessed harem. I hap- 
pened to notice in the fine sand between the palms the 
track of some animal, and, being very familiar with the 
traces made by animals in motion, I soon recognized it 
as the mark left by a small dog. Minute, protracted 
furrows ran along between the foot-prints, over the little 
inequalities of the sandy ground, and I said to myself, 
‘It is a female, and she has pendent dugs.’ Other 
marks near the prints of the fore feet, where the sand 
seemed to have been softly brushed away, showed me 
that the animal had a pair of wide, hanging ears; and, 
observing that the sand at longer intervals was more 
deeply furrowed, I thought to myself, ‘The little crea- 
ture has a handsome, long-haired tail, like a bunch of 
feathers, which she has been whipping the sand with ;’ 
and I noticed, at the same time, that one of her feet had 
entered less deeply into the sand than the others, so I 
came to the conclusion that the lap-dog of my most 
adorable mistress, if I may dare to use the expression, 
went a little lame. 

‘‘As regards the horse, may it please your majesty, 
know that, as I was passing slowly through one of the 
alleys of the grove, my attention was drawn to the 

17 


rf ‘ 


194 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


tracks of a horse. I had hardly glanced at the beauti- 
ful hoof, and the deep though delicate frog, when I said 
to myself, ‘This was a horse of the Tschenner breed, 
the finest in the world.’ Seeing how wide apart and 
how exquisitely regular the foot-prints were, may it 
please your majesty, I thought in my heart, ‘This is a 
splendid, a wonderful galloper;’ and I remembered 
Job’s description of the war-horse: ‘He paweth in 
the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength ; he goeth on to 
meet the armed men. He mocketh at fear, and is not 
affrighted; neither turneth he back from the sword. 
The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear 
‘and the shield.’ Seeing something glitter on the 
ground, I bent down, as I always do, and lo! it was a 
. bit of marble, in which the shoe of the running horse 
had made a dent, and I saw at once that the shoe must 
have been made of fourteen-carat silver; for | know 
perfectly the signs of every sort of metal, true or false. 
“The alley in which I was walking was seven feet 
wide, and on each side I noticed the dust was brushed 
away from the trunks of the trees. ‘This horse has 
been switching his tail,’ said I, ‘and it must have been 
three feet and a half long.’ Under the trees, whose 
foliage began five feet from the ground, I saw strewed 
about some fresh leaves. ‘His rapidity’s back must 
have knocked these off,’ thought 1; ‘so we have a horse 
of fifteen hands high.’ Under the same trees lay little 
tufts of hair of a golden hue, and of course I knew it 
must be a yellowish dun horse. Just as I left the grove, 
a trace of gold on a face of rock struck my eye. ‘ You 
should know this mark,’ said 1; ‘ what can this mean ?’ 
A touchstone was soon applied to the rock,,and the 
result was a minute bit of gold, as pure and fine as any 
the seven united states of Holland can produce. Of 


ABNER, THE JEW. 195 


course, the mark must have been made by the bit of the 
flying horse, rubbed for a moment against the rock as 
he ran past. Any one who knows your sublime fond- 
ness for magnificence, O king of kings! knows also that 
the meanest of your majesty’s horses would blush to 
champ on any other than a golden bit. This, please 
your majesty, was the way it happened, and if 4 

““Now, by Mecca and Medina!” exclaimed Muley 
Ismael, ‘‘ these are what I call eyes. Such eyes would 
not disgrace you, chief huntsman, and they would save 
you a couple of hounds. You, minister of police, would 
be able with such to see further than all your beadles 
and spies. Now, scoundrel, in consideration of your 
uncommon sagacity, we shall treat you honorably. 
The fifty blows, which you have justly received, are - 
worth fifty ducats; so pay down fifty in cash. Draw 
out your purse, and beware for the future of cracking 
jokes on our imperial property. For the rest, our 
mercy is extended to you.”’ 

The whole court were filled with admiration of Abner’s 
sagacity, for his majesty himself had sworn that he was 
a sharp-witted fellow. But this was no recompense for 
his sufferings, and no consolation for the loss of his pre- 
cious ducats. While he stood, with groans and sighs, 
drawing one after the other slowly from his purse, and 
reluctantly poising each, as it left his hand, on the tips 
of his fingers, Schnuri, the imperial jester, poked fun at 
him, by inquiring whether his ducats had all been tested 
on the same stone on which Prince Abdallah’s horse had 
proved the purity of his bit. ‘‘ Your wisdom has earned 
a deal of glory to-day,’”’ said he; ‘‘but I wager fifty 
ducats you wish you had held your tongue. But what 
says the prophet: ‘A spoken word no chariot can over- 
take, though it be drawn by four swift horses,’ — and 





196 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


no lap-dog either, friend Abner, unless it happens to 
limp.” 

Not long after this, to Abner, so melancholy incident, 
he went one day to take another walk in the green val- 
leys which lie between the spurs of the Atlas moun- 
tains. While sauntering along he was overtaken, as 
before, by a crowd of armed men, and the leader shouted 
to him! 

‘‘Hollo! friend! Did you see Goro, one of the 
emperor’s body-guard, run this way? He has made 
his escape, and we think he must have taken this way 
into the mountains.” 

“T cannot aid you, my lord general,’’ answered 
Abner. 

“QO, ho! Are not you the sharp-eyed Jew who had 
not seen his majesty’s horse and dog? Come, no hesi- 
tation. The slave must have run this way; perhaps 
you still smell him in the air? Or do you see the prints 
of his flying feet in this tall grass? Speak! he must be 
about here. He is unrivalled in shooting sparrows with 
the blow-pipe, his majesty’s favorite amusement. Come, 
sir, speak, or I will handcuff you on the spot.” 

‘‘General, can I say I have seen what in fact I have 
not seen?” 

“Jew! for the last time, which way did that slave 
run? Remember your bastinado! remember your 
ducats !”’ 

“QO, unhappy man that Iam! If you will insist that 
I saw this sparrow-shooter, why, he ran that way. If 
you do not find him there, you will somewhere else.”’ 

“Then you did see him?” growled the soldier. 

“Certainly, Mr. Officer, since you insist on it.”’ 

Away went the soldiers like the wind in the direction 
indicated, and Abner returned home, greatly tickled 


ABNER, THE JEW. 197 


with the success of his artifice. But he was scarcely 
four-and-twenty hours older when a crowd of palace- 
guards forced their way into his house, — of course, it 
being the Sabbath, polluting it with their presence, — 
and hauled Abner into the presence of the Emperor 
of Morocco. 

“Dog of a Jew!” roared his majesty. ‘‘ Do you dare 
send imperial soldiers, in search of a runaway slave, on 
a false scent into the mountains, while the fugitive was 
really running towards the sea-coast, and nearly escaped 
on board a Spanish ship? Soldiers, seize him! A 
hundred blows on his feet! A hundred ducats from his 
purse! As much as his feet swell, so much his purse 
shall shrink! ”’ 

You are aware, my lord sheik, that in the empire 
of Morocco people like justice to be speedy; so poor 
Abner was mulcted and bastinadoed before it occurred 
to anybody to ask his consent. He cursed the hard 
fate which condemned his feet and his purse to bleed 
as often as his majesty deigned to meet with a loss. 
As he was limping out of the hall with howls and 
groans, amid the laughter of the heartless courtiers, 
Schnuri, the jester, accosted him: ‘‘ Be not discon- 
tented; be grateful, thankless Abner! Is n’t it suffi- 
cient honor for you that every loss which our sacred 
emperor, God bless him! meets with, should occasion 
perceptible sorrow to such a fellow as you? Promise 
to pay me a good fee, however, and I will come to your 
shop every time, a full hour before the lord of the west 
loses anything, and say to you, ‘Don’t leave your house 
to-day, Abner ; you know the reason why. Shut your- 
self in your own room under lock and key, till sun- - 
set.’ ”’ 

rt* 


198 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


This, my lord, is the history of Abner the Jew, who 
saw nothing. 





When the slave had brought his tale to a close, and 
silence again prevailed, the young clerk reminded the 
old stranger of their previous conversation, and begged 
he would now show them wherein lay the resistless 
charm of fiction. 

“‘T will do so with the greatest pleasure,’’ answered 
the old man. ‘‘ Flowing water, which adapts itself to 
every outline, and by degrees forces its way through the 
hardest obstacles, is less plastic and changing than the 
human soul. The soul of man is as light and free as 
the air of heaven, and becomes, like air, lighter and 
purer the higher it floats above this erring earth. 
Hence there is a yearning in every man to lift himself 
above the common dulnesses of daily life, and to move 
more freely, be it in dreams alone, in a higher, nobler 
sphere. You yourself said, my young friend, ‘ We lived 
in those stories, we thought and felt with those men ;’ 
and this explains the charm they had for you. While 
you listened to the slave’s fables, which were but the 
poetry of another’s mind, you weve poetizing your- 
self. You no longer felt the vicinity of things around 
you ; your mind no longer pondered on its usual 
thoughts. No, you lived it all; you were he to whom 
this or that marvellous adventure happened, — you iden- 
tified yourself with the hero of whom the story was 
related. Thus your soul rose above the level present, 
which seemed so dull, so unattractive. Thus your soul 
moved free and untrammelled in a new and _ loftier 
sphere. Fiction was to you reality; or, if you prefer 
it, reality became fiction, while your mind, your essence, 
lived in the lands of fable.”’ 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 199 


**T do not wholly understand you,’’ answered the 
young merchant; ‘‘ but you are right in saying that we 
lived in fable, or rather fable lived in us. Those happy 
days are still vivid in my recollection. We used to 
dream in our waking hours. We imagined ourselves 
cast destitute on some wild, unpeopled island, and took 
counsel with ourselves how to sustain our lives. Often 
have we built ourselves huts-in some dense thicket of 
willows, and made a frugal meal on fruits, although not 
ahundred paces distant stood our home, where we 
could have obtained every luxury. Nay, there were 
even times when we looked for the appearance of some 
kind fairy, or wonderful dwarf, who would approach and 
say to us, ‘The earth is about to open, and will you 
honor me by descending to my crystal palace, and en- 
joying at your ease what my servants, the apes, shall 
set before you?’”’ 

The young men laughed, and admitted that. their 
friend had described their own experience. ‘‘ Further,’’ 
said another, ‘‘I am frequently surprised at this mys- 
terious fact. For example, I should be not a little angry 
at the falsehood, if my brother were to rush into my 
room and say, ‘Have you heard of the calamity of our 
neighbor, the fat baker? He has had a quarrel with a 
magician, and the latter, out of revenge, has changed 
him into a bear, and he is now lying on the floor of his 
chamber growling?’ I should be extremely angry, 
and charge him with lying. But it would be different 
if I were told that my fat neighbor had made a long 
journey into a remote country, and had there fallen 
into the hands of a magician, who had changed him into 
a bear. I should become, in such case, identified 
with the story, travel in company with my obese baker, 
encounter his adventures, and should feel no surprise 


200 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


if he were in the end to be thrust into a bearskin, and 
compelled to walk on all fours,” | 

‘True,’ said the aged stranger; ‘‘and there is 
another very agreeable kind of narrative, in which fairies 
and magicians play no part, and with which palaces of 
crystal, and genii carrying wonderful meats, have nothing 
to do. No ‘roc’ birds and no magic horses are alluded 
to in these, which differ totally from those called ‘ fairy 
tales.’ ”’ 

‘‘What do you mean?”’ said the young men. “ An- 
other sort than fairy tales ?”’ 

“T think a distinction should be drawn between 
fairy tales and those narratives called ‘fictions.’ If I 
say to you, ‘I will tell you a fairy story,’ you infer 
from the outset that it is to be a recital of circum- 
stances, deviating wholly from the usual course of com- 
mon events, and placed in scenery totally different from 
ordinary nature. Or, to be more intelligible, you expect 
in a fairy tale to hear of other beings than mortal men ; 
mysterious agencies meddling with the fate of the per- 
son of whom the fairy tale treats — wizards and fairies, 
mighty genii and princes of the ghostly world. The 
entire fable assumes an unusual, wonderful form, and 
resembles, perhaps, the textures of our carpets, or 
those drawings of our best masters, called by Euro- 
peans ‘ Arabesque.’ It is forbidden to true Mussulmen 
to reproduce in colors and outlines Allah’s finest handi- 
work, man; and hence one sees in these fabrics strange 
twisted trees and branches terminating in human heads, 
human bodies ending in fishes’ tails, and short figures 
reminding you of common life, and yet distorted and 
impossible. Do you see my meaning? ”’ 

“‘T think I do,”’ replied the scribe. ‘‘ But go on.”’ 

‘‘The fairy story is of this character, fabulous, mys- 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 201 


terious, startling; and, because so contrary to our 
common experience, the scene is generally laid in 
foreign countries, or in remote and forgotten times. 
Every nation has such fictions; the Turks no less 
than the Persians, Chinese, Mongols. There are many 
such even in the lands of the Franks, as I was once 
told by a learned Giaour. But they are less beautiful 
than our own; for, in place of fairies dwelling in splen- 
did palaces, they describe devilish women called witches, 
mischievous, hateful creatures, who live in filthy huts ; 
and, instead or traversing the blue air in shell-shaped 
chariots drawn by dragons, ride through the clouds on 
brooms. They have, also gnomes and earth-spectres, 
which they depict as small, distorted beings, occupied 
incessantly in deeds of mischief. Such is the fairy tale. 
Those narratives called, briefly, fictions, are wholly dif- 
ferent. These generally confine themselves to this 
earth; their scenes are laid in ordinary life, and their 
marvellous part is at most the development of some 
man’s destiny, who becomes rich or poor, fortunate or 
miserable, not by the interposition of witchcraft or sor- 
cery, but by his own deeds, or strange combinations of 
events.” 

“True! ’’ answered one of the young men. “ Simi- 
lar stories are to be found among those glorious tales 
of Scheherazade, called ‘The Thousand and One Nights,’ 
Most of the adventures of the Caliph Haroun al Raschid 
and his vizier are of this character. They go forth 
disguised, meet with various mysterious occurrences, 
and subsequently discover a perfectly natural explana- 
tion of the apparent miracles.”’ 

‘And you must admit, I think,’’ continued the old 
man, ‘‘ that these tales are not the worst in the Thou- 
sand and One Nights. And yet how different are they 


202 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


in their origin, progress and character, from the fable 
of Prince Camaralzaman, or the Three one-eyed Der- 
vishes, or the fisherman who draws out of the sea a chest 
sealed with Solomon’s seal! But, after all, there is a 
solid reason for the charm which pervades both, namely, 
that in both we find something striking and unusual. 
The extraordinary in the fairy tale consists in the min- 
gling of supernatural influences with the ordinary life 
of man. In the fiction, so called, it results from events 
happening according to natural laws, to be sure, but in 
a marvellous and startling manner.” 

‘‘Strange,’’ cried the scribe, ‘‘ strange, that this nat- 
ural course of events should give us as much pleasure 
as the supernatural incidents of fairy tales. What is 
the explanation of this ?”’ 

“«The solution is in the development of the individual,” 
answered the stranger. In the fairy tale the marvellous 
so preponderates, the man acts so little from his own 
impulses, that single figures and the characters they 
exhibit can only be shown superficially. It is otherwise 
in the common fiction, where the manner in which each 
person speaks and acts according to the character of 
his mind, constitutes at once the point and the charm 
of the narrative.’’ 

‘‘You are right,’”’ answered the young merchant. ‘I 
have never taken time to reflect on the subject, and have 
simply noticed the fact to be so, and let it pass, finding 
this tale delightful, or that one tedious, without consid- 
ering the reason. But you have given us a key to un- 
Jock the mystery, a touchstone by which we can test 
the merits of the stories we meet within future.’’ 

‘Use it always,’’ answered the old man, ‘“‘ and .your 
pleasure will increase in proportion as you learn to think 





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ENGLISHMAN. 


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THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 203 


on what you hear. But look; another slave is rising 
to begin.” 





THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 


My Lord Sheik,I am by birth a German, and have 
been in your country too short a time to be able to tell 
a Persian fairy tale, or to talk agreeably of sultans and 
viziers. I must ask the favor, therefore, of being per- 
mitted to speak of my father-land, from which perhaps 
I can draw something to afford youentertainment. Un- 
fortunately, our stories are rarely so elegant as yours; 
that is, they speak rarely of sultans or kings, nor allude 
to viziers or pashas, called by us ministers of justice, — 
finance, or the like ; they live, unless their heroes are 
soldiers, a very humble existence, and find their encour- 
agement principally among the common people. 

In the southern part of Germany lies the little city 
of Grunwiesel, where I was born and bred. It is small, 
as all cities are in that country. In the centre isa little 
market-place with a fountain, an old guildhall on one 
side, and round the market the houses of the justice of 
the peace and the more influential merchants ; and a 
couple of narrow streets hold all the rest of the inhab- 
itants. All know each other; every one knows what 
happens everywhere else ; and if the priest, the burgo- 
master, or the doctor, has an additional dish on his table, 
by dinner-time it is known to the entire city. In the 
afternoon the ladies go to each other’s houses, paying 
visits as they call it, to talk, over strong coffee and 
sweet biscuits, about this great event ; and the general 
conclusion arrived at is that the priest must have in- 
vested in a lottery and won money sinfully, or the bur- 


204 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


gomaster have taken a bribe, or the doctor have received 
money from the apothecary on the condition of writing 
expensive prescriptions. You may imagine, my lord 
sheik, how disagreeable a circumstance it must have 
been for so well-regulated a place as Grunwiesel, when 
a man arrived there, of whom nobody knew whence he 
came, what he wanted, or how he lived. The burgo- 
master, to be sure, had seen his passport,—a paper 
which every one is obliged to have among us — 

‘‘Ts it so unsafe in your streets,’ interrupted the 
sheik, ‘‘ that you require to have a firman from your 
sultan to inspire robbers with respect? ”’ 

No, my lord, —answered the slave ;— these papers 
are no protection against thieves, but are made neces- 
sary by the law, which requires that it must be known 
everywhere who is who. Now the burgomaster had ex- 
amined the passport, and had declared, at a coffee party 
at the doctor’s, that it was certainly correctly viséd 
from Berlin to Grunwiesel ; but he feared there was some- 
thing behind, for the man had a very suspicious look 
‘ about him. The burgomaster had great authority in 
the city, so it is no matter of surprise that in conse- 
quence the stranger came to be regarded as a very 
doubtful character. His mode of life did not tend to 
disabuse my countryman of this opinion. He hired a 
house for his exclusive use, put into it a cart-load of 
strange-looking furniture, such as furnaces, sand-baths, 
erucibles, and the like, and lived henceforward entirely 
alone. Nay, he even did his own cooking, and his house 
was entered by no human being, except one old man 
of Grunwiesel, whose duty it was to buy his bread, 
meat, and vegetables. Even this person was only ad- 
mitted to the lower floor, where the stranger met him 
to receive his purchases. 


THE. YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 205 


I was a boy of ten years of age when the stranger 
took up his residence in our city ; and I can call to mind, 
as plainly as if it had happened but yesterday, the 
excitement the man occasioned in the place. He never 
came of an afternoon, like other people, to the bowling- 
green ; never of an evening to the tavern, to talk of the 
times over his pipe and tobacco. In vain did the bur- 
gomaster, the justice, the doctor, the priest, each in 
his turn, invite him to dinner or tea; he invariably 
begged to be excused. In consequence of all this, 
some people regarded him as a desperado; some 
thought he must be a Jew; and a third party declared 
with great solemnity that he was a magician or sor- 
cerer. I grew to be eighteen, twenty years old, and 
still the man was always called in the city ‘The 
Stranger.” 

It happened, one day, that some people came to the 
city with a collection of strange animals. It was one of 
those wandering troops, which show a camel trained to 
make a bow, a dancing-bear, and dogs and apes, comi- 
cally dressed in men’s clothes, and playing all sorts of 
tricks. The custom of these people is, to pass through 
the city, halting at the cross-streets and squares, make 
hideous sounds with a drum and fife to call people 
together, then cause their animals to go through their 
performances, and finally collect money from the houses. 
The troop, which showed itself on this occasion in 
Grunwiesel, was distinguished by the possession of a 
monstrous orang-outang, nearly as large as a man, 
which went on two legs, and knew all sorts of cunning 
sleights of hand. It chanced that these performances 
took place in front of the stranger’s house. When the 
drum and fife sounded, he made his appearance, at first 
with visible vexation, behind the dark, dust-begrimmed 

18 


206 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


window of his residence. Soon, however, he grew 
more amiable, and, opening his window to everybody’s 
astonishment, looked out and laughed heartily at the 
orang-outang’s gambols. Nay, he paid so large a 
piece of silver for the entertainment that the whole city 
talked of it. 

The next morning the collection of animals went on 
their way. The camel carried numerous baskets, in 
which sat the dogs and monkeys, while the proprietors 
walked behind with the large ape. They had scarcely 
made a league on their journey, when the stranger sent 
to the post-house, demanding to the postmaster’s 
amazement a post-chaise and horses, and set forth by 
the same gate and on the same road taken by the men- 
agerie. The whole city was furious at not being able 
to learn whither he was going. It was night when the 
stranger again returned to the gate in the post-chaise. 
A person was sitting with him in the vehicle, with his 
hat pressed closely down over his face, and his mouth 
and ears bound in a silk handkerchief. The gate-keeper 
considered it his duty to speak to the second stranger, 
and demand his passport. His answer was surly, and 
growled out in some unintelligible language. 

“It is my nephew,”’ said the stranger, politely put- 
ting several silver coins into the gate-keeper’s hand ; 
‘“‘he understands very little German. What he said 
just now was swearing at our being delayed here.” 

“‘ Ah! if he is your nephew, sir,’”’ answered the gate- 
keeper, ‘of course he can enter without a passport. 
He will live in your house, no doubt ?”’ 

‘Certainly,’ said the stranger; ‘‘ and will probably 
remain with me a long while.”’ 

The gate-keeper made no further opposition, and the 
stranger and his nephew passed into the city. The 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 207 


burgomaster and the whole town were much displeased 
with the conduct of the gate-keeper. He should at 
least have taken notice of the nephew’s language ; it 
would then have been an easy matter to decide to what 
nation he and his uncle belonged. The gate-keeper 
asserted, in reply to these complaints, that it was 
neither Italian nor French, but had sounded a good 
deal like English ; and, unless his ears had deceived him, 
the younger gentleman had said distinctly, ‘‘ Ros-bif!”’ 
By this the gate-keeper helped himself out of his scrape, 
and, at the same time, assisted the young man to a 
name ; for nothing was talked of now in the city but 
the young Englishman. 

The young man, however, was no greater frequenter 
of the bow]ing-green or the tavern than his uncle was ; 
but he furnished the people much food for conversation 
in another way. It happened now, not unfrequently, 
that in the hitherto silent house would be heard a 
frightful uproar and shrieking, so that the passers-by 
would stop before the house in crowds, and gaze up at 
the windows. The young Englishman would be seen, 
dressed in a red frock and green trousers, his hair 
erect, and his appearance indicating terror, running 
with great speed through the rooms, from window to 
window, the old stranger pursuing him with a hunting- 
whip in his hand, and often failing to overtake him. 
But it sometimes seemed to the crowd below that he 
had succeeded in catching the young man; for they 
could hear, issuing from the rooms above, cries of 
anguish and sounds of blows. The ladies of the city 
took such deep concern in this cruel treatment of the 
youthful stranger, that they induced the burgomaster 
at last to take some notice of the affair. He wrote a 
letter to the strange gentleman, in which he alluded in 


208 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


vigorous terms to his harsh treatment of his nephew, 
and threatened him, in case similar scenes continued to 
transpire, with taking the unfortunate young man under 
his especial protection. 

Imagine the surprise of the burgomaster when he 
saw the stranger entering his doors for the only time in 
ten years. The old gentleman excused his conduct 
towards his nephew on the plea of the peculiar direc- 
tions of the parents of the young man who had 
entrusted him with his education. Te stated that the 
youth was in most respects clever and intelligent, but 
that he learned languages with great difficulty ; that he 
wished so earnestly to make his nephew an accom- 
plished German scholar, that he might afterwards take 
the liberty to introduce him to the society of Grunwie- 
sel, and the progress made by him was so discouraging, 
that on many occasions there was no better course to 
pursue than to beat it into him by a suitable castiga- 
tion. The burgomaster expressed himself perfectly 
satisfied with this explanation, recommended a little 
more moderation in the infliction of chastisement, and 
reported in the evening, at the beer-saloon, that he had 
rarely met, in his whole life, a better-informed and 
more agreeable gentleman than the stranger. ‘‘ The 
only pity is,’ he added, ‘‘ that he goes so little into 
society ; but I think, as soon as his nephew can speak 
a little German, he will visit our circle oftener.”’ 

By this single incident the opinion of the city was 
completely changed. They regarded the stranger as a 
well-bred man, felt a desire to cultivate his acquaint- 
ance, and considered it to be perfectly in order, when 
now and then a frightful shriek was heard to issue from 
the desolate house. ‘ He is giving his nephew a les- 
son in German,”’ the Grunwieselonians said, and went 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 209 


on without paying further attention to the matter. 
Three months passed by, and the tuition in German 
seemed to have come to a close; but the old man went 
a step further. There lived in the city an old, infirm, 
Frenchman, who gave lessons in dancing to the young 
people. This man the stranger summoned to his 
house, and told him that he desired him to teach his 
nephew to dance. He gave him to understand that the 
young man was extremely docile, but somewhat obsti- 
nate as regarded dancing ; that he had learned dancing 
previously of another master, and had been taught 
such extraordinary fours, that he could not safely be 
produced in society ; that, notwithstanding, his nephew 
considered himself a beautiful dancer, although his 
style bore not the faintest resemblance to the waltz or ~ 
galop,—dances, my lord sheik, very popular in my 
country, —and still less to the Ecossaise or the Frau- 
gaise. He promised to pay him a dollar an hour, and 
the dancing-master agreed with great readiness to 
undertake the instruction of the obstinate pupil. 

There was nothing, the Frenchman secretly declared, 
so wonderful in all the world as these dancing-lessons. 
The nephew, a tall, slim, young man, with rather short 
legs, made his appearance, he said, in a red frock, his 
hair nicely curled, wide trousers, and white gloves. 
He spoke little, and with a foreign accent, and seemed, 
in the beginning, rather intelligent and docile; but he 
frequently broke out into the most ridiculous leaps, 
dancing the wildest fours, in which he made entrechats 
which surpassed all the dancing-masters he had ever seen 
or heard of. When it was attempted to check his ex- 
travagances, he would pull off the delicate dancing-shoes 
from his feet, throw them at the Frenchman’s head, and 
run round the chamber on all fours. At the noise, the 

18* 


210 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


old gentleman would rush out of his room, in a large 
- red bed-gown, and a cap of gold paper on his head, and 
lay his whip heavily over his nephew’s shoulders. The 
nephew would at once begin to howl in the most fright- 
ful manner, spring on the table and high book-cases, 
and even on the upper sashes of the windows, and talk 
all the time a strange foreign language. The old gen- 
tleman would give him no respite, but, seizing him by 
the leg, would pull him down, beat him soundly, and 
draw his neckcloth tighter round his neck by the 
buckle ; after which the nephew would become man- 
nerly and sober again, and the dancing-lesson go on 
quietly to its close. 

But when the dancing-master had carried his pupil 
so far that music became necessary for his instruction, 
the nephew seemed as if crazy. A fiddler was hired, 
and set ona table in the hall of the old house. The 
dancing-master represented the lady, and was com- 
pelled by the old gentleman to wear a silk gown and 
an Indian shawl. The nephew would then invite him 
to dance, and begin at once to waltz and spin ; but he 
was an unwearying and most violent dancer, and no 
persuasions could induce him to release the Frenchman 
from his long, powerful arms ; no matter if he groaned 
or bellowed, he had to dance till he either dropped 
down exhausted, or the musician’s arm grew lame with 
fiddling. These dancing-lessons very nearly killed the 
old Frenchman; but the dollar which he regularly 
received and the good wine which the old gentleman 
brought out, always took him back to his pupil, often 
as he resolved never to set foot in the hateful house 
again. 

The people of Grunwiesel looked on these things 
very differently from the Frenchman. They settled in 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 211 


their own minds that the young gentleman possessed 
great talents for society ; and the ladies in the place all 
congratulated themselves — suffering as they did from 
a great lack of gentlemen— on the acquisition of so 
vigorous a dancer for the coming winter. 

One morning the maids, returning from market, 
described to their masters and mistresses a singular 
incident. They had seen an elegant carriage standing 
before the stranger’s house, and a servant in rich 
livery holding the step. The door of the old house 
had suddenly opened, and two finely-dressed gentlemen 
came out, one the old stranger, and the other probably 
the young nephew who danced so madly and learned 
German with so much difficulty. The two gentlemen 
had entered the carriage, the servant sprung into the 
boot behind, and the carriage — only imagine it! — 
drove straight off to the house of the burgomaster. 

When the ladies heard this story from their maids, 
they hastily snatched off their kitchen aprons and 
hoods, and took their seats in state. ‘‘ Nothing is 
more certain,’’—said they to their families, while every- - 
body ran about, dressing up the best parlor, — ‘“ noth- 
ing can be more certain than that the stranger is going 
to introduce his nephew to society. The old brute has 
not had the civility to set his foot inside our houses for 
the last ten years, but, for the sake of his nephew, who 
must be a delightful young man, we will forgive him 
this once.’? And they warned their sons and daugh- 
ters to be on their best behavior when the gentlemen 
came; to sit up straight, and to be careful to use a 
better pronunciation than usual. The shrewd ladies 
had judged correctly, for the old gentleman was making 
the tour of the city with his nephew, to bespeak the 


212 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


friendship of the society of Grunweisel for himself and 
his young relative. 

Everywhere people were in raptures with the two 
strangers, and regretted only that they had not made 
their acquaintance earlier. The old gentleman showed 
himself to be a well-bred, sensible man, who laughed a 
little to be sure in everything he said; rendering it dif- 
ficult to know whether he was in jest or earnest; but 
who talked of the weather, the scenery, and the picnics 
to the cave in the mountain, so politely and shrewdly 
that every one was delighted. But the nephew! He 
bewitched everybody ; he won all hearts. As for his 
exterior, it was impossible to call him exactly hand- 
some. The lower part of his face, especially his jaw, 
projected too far, and his complexion was extremely 
dark ; while occasionally he made the most remarkable 
grimaces, shutting his eyes, and snapping his teeth 
together queerly ; but people found the shape of his 
features exceedingly interesting. Nothing could be 
more graceful and elegant than his figure. His clothes, 
to be sure, fitted somewhat loosely to his person, but 
their effect was highly becoming. He moved about the 
parlors with wonderful vivacity, throwing himself down, 
now on a sofa, now into an easy-chair, and extend- 
ing his legs at full length; but what in other young 
men would have been thought extremely common and 
vulgar, passed in the nephew’s case for gentlemanly 
ease. ‘‘ He is an Englishman,’’ people said; ‘“ they 
are all so. We must not be too particular with an 
Englishman.”’ 

Towards his old uncle he was very submissive ; for 
whenever he began to jump too vivaciously about the 
room, or, as he seemed particularly inclined to do, 
drew his feet up under him on his chair, a single stern 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 213 


glance from the old man served to bring him to order 
at once. And how could one be angry with the young 
man, when his uncle, in every house, said to the lady, 
“« My nephew is still a little raw and ill-bred, madam ; 
but I anticipate much from the mollifying effect pro- 
duced by your society, and I implore your forgiveness 
for any gaucheries he may happen to be guilty of.”’ 

Thus was the nephew at length introduced to the 
gay world, and all Grunwiesel spoke of nothing else for 
the two following days but this great event. The old 
gentleman renounced his habits of retirement, and 
seemed to have wholly altered his modes of thought 
and life. In the afternoons he went, with his nephew, 
to the cave in the mountain, where the more important 
citizens of Grunwiesel drank beer and rolled ninepins. 
Here the nephew showed himself a skilful master of the 
game; for he never threw less than five ‘or six balls. 
Occasionally a strange humor seized him. It happened, 
more than once, that he rushed like an arrow down 
among the ninepins with one of the balls, making a 
dreadful racket, and when he made a spare or a ten- 
strike, the fancy sometimes came over him to stand 
erect on his nicely-curled head, and extend his legs 
high into the air; or, if a carriage happened to pass, 
befgre one knew what he was about he would be seen 
sitting on the top of the vehicle, making the most ludi- 
crous grimaces, and, after riding on a short distance, 
return, with prodigious leaps and bounds, to the party 
he had quitted. 

The old gentleman, at such incidents as aHece. was 
wont to beg ten thousand pardons of the burgomaster 
and the other gentlemen, for his nephew’s eccentricities. 
They, in reply, would laugh, ascribe such conduct to 
his youthful spirits, declare they had been just the same 


214 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


in their youth, and admire the young springal, as they 
called him, immensely. 

There were times, however, when they grew ex- 
tremely angry with him, though they ventured to make 
no remark, as the young Englishman was everywhere 
looked upon as a model of taste and judgment. The 
old gentleman was in the habit of dropping in of an 
evening, with his nephew, at the Golden Stag, the only 
tavern in the city. Although the néphew was still a 
very young man, he assumed there the manners of a 
very old one; for he would sit down over his glass, put 
ona huge pair of spectacles, draw out his pipe, and 
smoke more vigorously than any one present. The 
conversation would, perhaps, turn on the times, the 
war, the peace, or what not, and the doctor would give 
his opinion one way, the burgomaster another, and the 
other gentlemen assembled there would be duly aston- 
ished at the extent of their political knowledge and acu- 
men. It would suddenly occur to the nephew to enter- 
tain a totally different view. He would bring down his 
gloved hand heavily on the table, and give the burgo- 
master and the doctor bluntly to understand that they 
knew nothing whatever about the matter; that he had 
heard that these matters were totally different, and that 
his penetration was far greater and more reliable than 
theirs. He would then express his sentiments on the 
subject, in strange, broken German; which sentiments, 
to the huge indignation of the refuted burgomaster, 
everybody would find admirable ; for, being an English- 
man, of course he knew better than any one else. 

On such occasions, did the burgomaster and doctor, 
boiling with suppressed rage, set themselves down to a 
game of chess, the nephew would draw up his chair 
near their table, and, looking with his huge spectacles 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 215 


over the burgomaster’s shoulder, find fault with this or 
that move, or tell the doctor he should play so aud so, 
to the secret indignation of both these gentlemen. And, 
if the burgomaster should angrily challeuge him to play, 
and threaten to mate him in the twinkling of a bed-post, 
— for he looked upon himself as a second Philidor, — 
the old gentleman would buckle his nephew’s cravat 
tighter, and the latter would at once become polite and 
courteous, and proceed to checkmate the burgomaster. 

Hitherto it had been very common in Grunwiesel to 
play cards, at a half-kreutzer a point; but these bets 
the nephew declared to be contemptible, and wagered 
enormous sums in ducats and crowns, boasting that no 
one’s game was equal to his; greatly consoling the 
wounded feelings of his adversaries, however, by losing 
monstrous sums of money. ‘They made no scruples in 
taking the money ; for, said they, ‘‘he is an English- 
man, and made of money, of course,”’ and straightway 
shoved the cash into their pockets. 

In this way the nephew of the stranger came, before 
long, to be held in high favor in the city and environs. 
No one could recall ever having seen a young man like 
him in Grunwiesel before; and he was, indeed, the 
strangest apparition which had ever visited their bor- 
ders. No one could accuse him of cultivation, of any 
possible kind, except, perhaps, a little dancing. Latin 
and Greek were both Greek to him. At around game 
at the burgomaster’s house, it once fell to his lot to be 
obliged to write something, and it was found that he 
could not even sign his name. In geography he made 
the most stupendous blunders; for he made no hesita- 
tion in locating a German city in France, or a Danish 
one in Poland. He had read nothing; he had studied 
nothing; and the priest often shook his head signifi- 


216 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


cantly over the dreadful ignorance of the young gentle- 
man. Still, in spite of this, everything he said and did 
was held to be excellent; for he was impudent enough 
to insist always on being right, and the last words of 
every remark he made were: ‘I understand this much 
better than you.”’ 

The winter came on, and now our hero shone in the 
height of his glory. Every assembly was tedious at 
which he was not present. People yawned when a wise 
man made a remark ; but when the nephew uttered the 
maddest trash, in the most detestable German, they were 
all ears. It was found now that the wonderful young 
man was a poet; for scarce an evening passed but he 
drew some bit of paper from his pockets and read the . 
assembled company several sonnets. To be sure, there 
were some persons who asserted that much of these 
verses was absolutely unintelligible, and the remainder 
they had seen somewhere in print; but all their efforts 
failed to disturb the young Englishman’s equanimity. 
He read, and read, called attention to the beauty of his 
poems, and was everywhere greeted with enthusiastic 
applause. 

The scenes of his greatest triumphs, however, were 
the Grunwiesel balls. No one danced so perseveringly, 
none'so vigorously as he; no one made such bold, such 
graceful jumps. His uncle dressed him for such occa- 
sions in the newest and handsomest fashions; and, 
although it was impossible to make his clothes fit, yet 
evetybody considered his dress charming. The gentle- 
men, to be sure, took offence, at these balls, at the new 
style which he introduced. Hitherto the burgomaster 
had always opened the ball in person, and the most 
highly-born young men exercised the right of regulat- 
ing the rest of the dances ; but since the young English- 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 217 


man’s arrival, a total change had been brought about. 
He would seize the prettiest girl by the hand without 
leave or license, take his place with her in the figure, 
manage everything precisely as he pleased, and consti- 
tute himself, without ceremony, lord, master, and king 
of the ball. But as the ladies found these manners 
extremely elegant, the young men dared not venture 
on resistance, and the eccentric nephew retained unop- 
posed his self-assumed dignity and rank. 

Balls like these appeared to furnish the liveliest satis- 
faction to the old gentleman. He kept his eyes inces- 
santly on his nephew, laughing constantly to himself, 
and when the guests crowded round him, to congratu- 
late him on the elegance and good-breeding of his pro- 
iégé, he seemed unable to repress his delight, broke 
out into a stentorian laugh, and, in short, acted like a 
fool. The Grunwieselonians ascribed these strange 
explosions to his passionate fondness for his nephew, 
and found them perfectly en régle. But now and then 
he was compelled to exercise his fatherly supervision 
over the young man; for, in the middle of the most 
dignified dance, it sometimes pleased his nephew’s 
fancy to leap, with one enormous spring, into the gal- 
lery among the musicians, seize the contra-bass from 
the hands of the leader, and extort from the instrument 
diabolical sounds; or sometimes he would suddenly 
reverse his position, and dance on his hands, stretching 
his legs perpendicularly into the air. At such times, 
his uncle would take him to one side, give him a little 
serious advice, and draw his cravat tighter round his 
neck, whereupon he would resume immediately a tran- 
quil and gentlemanly demeanor. 

Such was the behavior adopted by the nephew at 
balls and parties in Grunwiesel. As is too often the 

19 


218 ARABIAN DAYS’ .ENTERTAINMENTS. 


case in other matters, bad habits come into vogue 
much easier than good ones, and a new and striking 
fashion, especially if it be ridiculous, has ever some- 
thing in it highly attractive for the young, who have 
not yet formed an accurate or sensible judgment of 
themselves and the world. So it was in Grunwiesel 
with the nephew and his extraordinary manners. For, 
when the younger world perceived that the young 
stranger won more admiration than he incurred rebuke 
for his awkward habits, his loud laughter, and his inso- 
lent answers to his seniors, and that these passed 
merely as evidences of his spiritual nature, they thought 
to themselves: ‘‘ Nothing is easier than to make my- 
self exactly such another spiritual brute.’? They had 
formerly been industrious, clever youths ; but now they 
thought: ‘‘Of what use is learning, when ignorance 
carries a man so much further?’’ So, abandoning their 
books, they spent their time in dissipation on the 
streets. In former times, they had been polite and 
courteous ; waiting till spoken to, and answering mod- 
estly ; now they forced their way into the society of 
men, talking loudly, and stating their opinions, laugh- 
ing in the face of the burgomaster himself, and boasting 
that they knew everything better than he. 

Till now, the Grunwiesel young men had entertained 
a proper dislike to a rough and vulgar demeanor ; now 
they sang all sorts of vile songs, smoked huge pipes of 
tobacco, and spent much time in low pot-houses. They 
bought also big spectacles, notwithstanding the excel- 
lence of their eyesight, and, mounting them on their noses, 
believed themselves at once to be finished gentleman, 
for with them they resembled the young Englishmen. 
At home, or on a visit, they lay down in boots and 
spurs on the ottomans; at assemblies they tilted their 





THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 219 


chairs, or put both elbows on the table. In vain their 
older friends represented to them how foolish, how 
disgraceful this behavior was; they referred to the 
shining example of the nephew. It was said to them, in 
vain, that a certain degree of rudeness must be for- 
given in the nephew, in consideration of his English 
birth ; the young Grunwieselonians declared that they 
had as good a right as the best Englishman in the 
world to be vulgar in a spiritual way. In short, 
it was a general complaint that gentlemanly breeding 
and behavior had been entirely eradicated from Grun- 
wiesel by the evil example of the young stranger. 

But the pleasure of the young men, in their rude and 
reckless life, was of short duration, for the following 
incident changed the whole aspect of affairs. A great 
concert was resolved upon, to close the winter amuse- 
ments, to be given partly by the regular city musicians, 
partly by skilful amateurs of Grunwiesel. The burgo- 
master played the violoncello, the doctor the bassoon 
with great skill, the apothecary, though he had no ear, 
blew the flute, several young ladies of the city had 
studied arias, and every preliminary had been carefully 
arranged. The old stranger expressed the opinion, 
that, though doubtless the concert would be admirable 
as it was, he noticed that no duet was included in 
the programme, and that a duet was, as every one 
knew, a necessary element of every concert. This 
opinion occasioned a good deal of embarrassment. The 
burgomaster’s daughter, to be sure, sang like a nightin- 
gale; but where was the gentleman who could sing 
a duet with her? They thought, at last, of falling 
back on the old organist, who had sung an excellent 
bass in former days; but the stranger announced that 
all this anxiety was needless, for his nephew had a voice 


220 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


of surprising cultivation and power. No little aston- 
ishment was felt at this new accomplishment of the 
young man; nothing would do but he must give an 
exhibition of his skill, and, with the exception of a few 
eccentricities of style, which his audience took to be 
English, the general opinion was that he sang like 
an angel. The duet, therefore, was studied with all 
haste, and the evening at length arrived, on which the 
ears of the people of Grunwiesel were to be enraptured 
by the concert. 

The old stranger was unable to be present at his 
nephew’s triumph, in consequence of illness, but he 
gave to the burgomaster, who visited him during 
the day, some rules for the guidance of his eccentric 
relative. ‘‘He is a good soul,” said he; ‘but now 
and then he is seized with some strange notions, and 
breaks out into the wildest freaks. I regret, extremely, 
my inability to be present at the concert this evening, 
for his demeanor is perfectly decorous while I am by. 
He well knows why, the scamp! Let me assure your 
excellency that this vivacity of his is not a mental 
vice, but merely a bodily infirmity. Whenever, there- 
fore, any such humor seizes him, so that he seats 
himself on a music-stand, or attempts to knock down 
the contra-bass, or the like, if your excellency would 
take the trouble to loosen his cravat a little, or if 
nothing better can be done, take it off altogether, you 
will see how quict and well-bred he will at once 
become.” 

The burgomaster thanked the sick man for his con- 
fidence, and promised, in case the necessity arose, to 
follow his directions to the letter. 

The concert-room was filled to suffocation, for all 
Grunwiesel and the neighborhood had taken tickets. 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 221 


All the huntsmen, pastors, officers, farmers, and the like, 
within a radius of three leagues from the city, had 
streamed in with their families, to share with the Grun- 
wieselonians in the rare entertainment. The city musi- 
cians came out in great strength, followed by the bur- 
gomaster on the violoncello in a duet with the apothe- 
cary on the flute; after these the organist played a 
voluntary with prodigious applause; and even the 
doctor was clapped immensely on the occasion of his 
exquisite solo on the bassoon. 

Part first of the concert was over, and evervho#y 
was on the tenter-hooks of expectation fer tue "e lok 
in which the young Englishman was to perform a duet 
with the burgomaster’s daughter. The nephew had 
made his appearance in gorgeous costume, and had 
long ago drawn upon himself the attention of all 
present. He had thrown himself down, without the 
slightest ceremony, in the elegant arm-chair provided 
for a, countess of the vicinity, and, stretching his legs 
to their full length, had stared the audience out of 
countenance through a huge opera-glass which he had 
provided in addition to his ordinary spectacles ; playing 
incessantly, meanwhile, with a large mastiff which he 
had persisted in introducing in spite of the regulations 
prohibiting all such animals. The countess, for whom 
the arm-chair had been provided, soon appeared ; but 
the young Englishman made no movement to resign 
his seat. On the contrary, he only assumed a more 
comfortable attitude, and no one present ventured 
to rebuke his insolence. The distinguished lady was - 
consequently obliged to take her seat in an ordinary 
cane chair among the other ladies of the city, in a state 
of intense and natural indignation. 

All through the elegant performance of the burgo- 

19* 


222 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


master, all through the organist’s exquisite voluntary, 
nay, all the time that the doctor was improvising on 
his bassoon, and while every one else was holding 
his breath to listen, the nephew was sending his 
dog after his handkerchief, or talking in a loud tone 
to his neighbor ; so that all who were unacquainted with 
his habits were filled with anger at the extraordinary 
indecency of the young gentleman’s behavior. 

No wonder, therefore, that everybody was curious 
+o see how he would succeed with his duet. The 
sea -put began; the city musicians played the 
iu deuctory bars, and now the burgomaster led up 
his daughter to the young Englishman, and, handing 
him a sheet of music, said to him, ‘‘ My dear sir, 
are you disposed to begin the duet?’’? The stranger 
laughed, showed his teeth, and, springing up, preceded 
the two others to the music-stand, while the audience 
was filled with excitement and anticipation. The 
organist beat the time, and nodded to the Englishman 
to begin. The latter looked at the music through 
his spectacles a moment, and gave utterance to some 
hideous and melancholy howls ; whereupon, the organ- 
ist shouted to him: ‘‘ Two notes lower, your honor; C, 
— you must sing C.”’ 

Instead of singing C, the stranger pulled off one 
of his shoes, and flung it at the organist’s head, making 
the powder fly in clouds. Seeing this, the burgo- 
master thought to himself: ‘‘ Ha! his bodily infirmity 
has got hold of him again; ”’ and, seizing him by the 
neck, he loosened the buckle of his cravat. But, at this, 
the young man’s conduct became only the more out- 
rageous. He dropped the use of German, and confined 
himself to an extraordinary and unintelligible language, 
taking all the while the most tremendous leaps. The 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 223 


burgomaster was in despair at this unpleasant inter- 
ruption to the entertainment, and instantly resolved to 
take off entirely the cravat of the young Englishman, 
whom some unusually violent paroxysm must have 
suddenly seized. But no sooner had he done this, 
than he started back aghast. Instead of a human 
skin and complexion, a dark brown fur enveloped 
the neck of the youthful stranger, who instantly pro- 
ceeded upon still higher and more marvellous leaps ; 
and, twisting his white gloves into his hair, he pulled it 
entirely off, and, wonder of wonders! this beautiful 
hair was only a wig, which he threw into the burgo- 
master’s face, and his head made its appearance clothed 
in the same brown fur as his neck. 
He overturned tables and benches, threw down 
music-stands, smashed the fiddles and clarinets, and 
in short behaved like a lunatic. ‘‘Seize him! seize 
him! ”’ shouted the burgomaster beside himself; ‘‘ he is 
raving,—seize him!’ This, however, was a difficult 
matter, for he had pulled off his gloves, and showed 
his brown hands, armed with frightful nails, with which 
he assaulted the faces of the company. A courageous 
huntsman at length succeeded in taking him prisoner. 
He pressed his long arms down to his sides, so that he 
could do nothing except struggle fiercely with his feet, 
and laugh and shriek in a piercing voice. The audience 
gathered round to look at the eccentric young gentle- 
man, who by this time had lost every semblance 
of ahuman being. Among them, a learned gentleman 
of the environs, who possessed a large collection of 
stuffed animals, approached him, and after a close 
examination, suddenly exclaimed: ‘‘Good God, ladies 
and gentlemen! why do you admit this beast into good 
society? This is an ape, the homo triglodites Linnet, 


224° ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and I will give you six dollars for him, if you like, and 
stuff him for my cabinet.” 

Fancy the astonishment of the citizens of Grunwiesel, 
when they heard this! ‘‘What! an ape, an orang- 
outang in our best society! The young Englishman 
nothing but a filthy ape!’’? They stared at each other 
in dumb bewilderment. They could not believe it! 
They would not trust their eyes, and they examined 
the animal more narrowly ; but, gaze as they pleased, 
a vulgar ape he was, and a vulgar ape he remained. 

‘‘ But how is this possible?” cried the burgomaster’s 
lady. ‘‘Hasn’t he frequently read me his poems? 
Has n’t he often dined with me?” 

‘‘What!”’ shrieked the doctor’s wife. ‘‘Hasn’t he 
drank tea with me over and over again? and smoked 
and talked literature with my husband ?”’ 

“It’s impossible !’’ cried the gentlemen. ‘Has n’t 
he often played ninepins with us at the cave, and dis- 
cussed politics as well as the rest of us?” 

‘And, besides,’’ exclaimed everybody, ‘has n’t he 
danced ever so many times at our balls? An ape? An 
ape? It’s amiracle! It’s sorcery! ”’ 

‘‘Yes, it must be sorcery, devilish sorcery!” said 
the burgomaster, bringing the ape’s cravat. ‘‘ Look! 
here in this cravat lies the witchcraft which has blinded 
our eyes. Here is a broad strip of parchment, inscribed 
with strange characters. It is Latin, I believe; can 
anybody read it?”’ 

The pastor, a man of extensive learning, who had 
often lost a game of chess to the young Englishman, 
stepped up, and, looking at the parchment, said: ‘‘Cer- - 
tainly, this is Latin, and means: 


‘This ape is a very ridiculous creature, 
And to see through and shun false pretences will teach you.’ ”” 


THE YOUNG ENGLISHMAN. 225 


“Ay, ay; it is an infernal swindle ; in itself a species 
of witchcraft,’’ he continued, ‘‘and should meet with 
exemplary punishment.’’ 

The burgomaster was of the same opinion, and started 

forthwith to arrest the stranger, who could be nothing 
but a magician. Six soldiers carried the ape, for they 
were determined to bring the old scoundrel to instant 
trial. 
- They reached the desolate house, followed by a crowd 
of people, for every one wanted to see how the affair 
would end. They knocked at the door, they pulled 
the bell; but all in vain—no one showed himself in 
answer to their appeals. The burgomaster finally 
caused the door to be beaten in, and mounted to the 
sick man’s chamber. Nothing was to be seen but old, 
worthless household rubbish. The stranger had van- 
ished. On his writing-table, however, lay a large, 
sealed letter, addressed to the burgomaster, which the 
latter opened. He read: 

‘My pear GrunwigsELonians: When you read this 
I shall be no longer in your village, and you will have 
discovered the rank and nation of my darling nephew. 
Take the joke which I have ventured to play upon you 
as a.good lesson not to insist on inflicting your society 
upon a stranger, when he wishes to live in retirement. 
I felt myself too well-bred to be involved in your eternal 
tattle, your bad manners, and your ridiculous customs. 
I procured, therefore, the young orang-outang, whom 
you have caressed so affectionately, to act as my substi- 
tute. Farewell, my friends, and lay this lesson to heart.” 

The citizens of Grunwiesel were the laughing-stock 
of the whole country, and felt intensely mortified. Their 
consolation was, that all this must have been brought 
about by supernatural means. But the greatest con- 


226 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


fusion was felt by the young men of the city, for they 
had made the bad manners of a beastly ape the object 
of their approval and imitation. Henceforth they ceased 
to lean their elbows on the table; they balanced them- 
selves no longer on their chairs; they were silent till 
addressed, and became modest and civil as of old; and 
it became a byword with the Grunwieselonians, when 
any one showed signs of relapsing into such vulgar and 
ridiculous practices, to call him ‘‘the old gentleman’s 
ape.”’ 

The orang-outang, who had played so long the part 
of a gentleman of fashion, was handed over to the pro- 
prietor of the cabinet of natural history. This gentle- 
man feeds him, gives him the run of his yard, and shows 
him to every stranger as a great rarity; and there he is 
to be seen to the present day. 


A burst of laughter, in which the young men joined, 
filled the hall when the slave had ended his story. 

“They must be singular people, those Franks,’ said 
one of them; ‘‘and I should much prefer living here in 
Alexandria with sheik and mufti, to the society of the 
priest and the burgomaster and the silly women of 
Grunwiesel.”’ 

“‘T agree with you,” said the young merchant. ‘I 
should choose to die anywhere else than in Frankistan. 
The Franks are a rude, barbarous nation, and, for a pol- 
ished Turk or Persian, it must be torture to be obliged 
to live among them.”’ 

“You will soon hear about that,’’ answered the old 
man. ‘From what the superintendent told me, the 
handsome young slave yonder is about to tell us a good 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 227 


deal about Frankistan. For, though a Mussulman by 
birth, he has spent a number of years there.”’ 

‘What! that one sitting at the end of the row? 
Upon my honor, it is a sin in the sheik to give him his 
freedom! He is the handsomest slave in the country. 
Only look at that spirited face, those bold eyes, that 
graceful figure! He should give him some easy occu- 
‘pation. He might make him his fly-flapper, or his pipe- 
bearer. Such duties are a mere trifle, and a slave like 
that is an ornament to the whole house. And he has 
had him only three days, you say, and now lets him go? 
It is atrocious! shameful! ”’ 

‘Blame not one who is wiser than all Egypt!” 
said the old stranger. ‘‘ Have I not told you that he 
releases him because he thinks thereby to obtain the 
blessing of Allah? You call him handsome and grace- 
ful, and you say truth. But the son of the sheik — 
whom the Prophet restore to his father’s arms ! — was 
a handsome lad, and must be now a large and well- 
grown man. Shall he, then, spare his gold and dis- 
miss some cheap and worn-out slave, in the hope of 
recovering his son? ’”’ 

‘And see! the eyes of the sheik are constantly fast- 
ened on this slave. I have noticed it the whole even- 
ing. All through the other stories he was perpetually 
turning his gaze upon him, and lingering on the noble 
features of the youth. 1am sure he regrets to let him 
go.” 

“Do not so judge his excellency !’’ said the old man. 
‘“Think you he grudges a thousand tomauns, whose 
daily income exceeds that sum three-fold? While his 
glance rests sadly on the young slave’s face, believe 
me, he is thinking of his son grieving among strangers, 
and wondering whether some compassionate man 


228 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


dwells there, who will send him home to his bereaved 
father.’’ 

“You are right,’’ answered the young merchant; 
‘‘and I feel shame, honored sir, that I always ascribe 
to people common and vulgar sensations, while to your 
eyes some beautiful emotion lies visible beneath the sur- 
face. And yet, sir, has not your experience taught you 
that the generality of men are bad?” 

“Precisely because experience has taught me the 
contrary, do I take pleasure in thinking well of men,” 
answered the other. ‘‘ It was once with me exactly as 
with you. In my younger days I heard many base 
things of men, witnessed myself much evil, and ended 
by believing all mankind to be vile. But I reflected 
that Allah, who is as just as wise, would not suffer so 
fair a spot as Earth to be peopled by such degraded 
beings. I thought more rationally on what I had seen 
and heard, and, behold! I had retained the evil in my 
memory, and had dismissed the good! I had passed it 
by unnoticed when a fellow-being performed some deed 
of charity ; I had been indifferent when men lived vir- 
tuous and moral lives; but when I had heard of a bad 
deed, or fearful crime, these I had imprinted indelibly 
on my recollection. I began, henceforth, to see with 
other eyes. I saw that virtue was not so sparingly dis- 
tributed as I had fancied ; I noticed evil less, or it found 
in me more charity; and thus I learned to love my fel- 
low-men, and to value more justly their good qualities ; 
and throughout my long life I have ever erred more 
rarely in believing in the existence of virtue, than in 
holding men, without reflection, to be covetous, selfish, 
and wicked.” 

The venerable stranger was interrupted, at this mo- 
ment, by the approach of the superintendent, who said: 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 229 


‘Sir, my lord, the Sheik of Alexandria, Ali Banu, has 
noticed with pleasure your presence in his house, and 
invites you to draw nearer and take your seat by his 
side.” 

The young people were not a little surprised at the 
honor which had befallen their unknown friend, whom 
they had taken for a beggar ; and after he had left them 
to take his seat with the sheik, the scribe stopped the 
superintendent and inquired: ‘‘I entreat you, by the 
beard of the Prophet, tell us, who is this old man, to 
whom the sheik shows so much honor ? ” 

‘‘What!”’ cried the superintendent, lifting his hands 
in wonder ; ‘‘ do you not know him ?”’ 

“No; we have no idea who he is.”’ 

‘‘ But I have seen you conversing with him several 
times in the street; and my lord the sheik, who has 
noticed it also, said lately: ‘Those must be excellent 
young men whom this man holds worthy of his friend- 
ship.’ ”’ 

“‘Tell us, for Heaven’s sake, who it is! ’’ cried the 
young merchant, in great impatience. 

“You are jesting,’? answered the superintendent. 
‘« No one ever enters this hall without a special invita- 
tion; and this morning this aged man sent word to the 
sheik that he would with his permission bring with 
him several young friends; and Ali Banu replied, at 
once, that in his house his word was supreme law.” 

‘‘We beseech you, keep us no longer in ignorance. 
As we live, we know not who he is, and we made his 
acquaintance by the merest accident.”’ 

‘‘Then, gentlemen, you may consider yourselves for- 
tunate; for you have been conversing with a learned 
and celebrated man, and all present are envying you on 

20 


230 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


his account. He is no other than Mustapha, the wise 
dervish.”’ 

‘‘ Mustapha! the wise Mustapha! the tutor of the 
sheik’s son! who has written so many learned books ! 
who has visited all parts of the world! Have we been 
talking with Mustapha?— and talking to him as if he 
were one of ourselves, without the slightest tokens of 
respect | ”’ 





The young men were still in conversation over the 
dervish Mustapha. They felt themselves much hon- 
ored that so old and famous a man should have so 
often talked and argued with them, or considered them 
worthy of his notice. The superintendent suddenly 
approached, and invited them to follow him into the 
presence of the sheik. Their hearts throbbed loudly. 
Never yet had they conversed with a man of such ex- 
alted station. But, bracing their courage, they followed 
the superintendent. Ali Banu was sitting on a rich 
pil'ow, sipping sherbet. The aged stranger was sitting 
at his right; his tattered cloak was resting on superb 
cushions, and his worn-out sandals reposed on a Persian 
carpet; but his apostolic head, and his expression of 
dignity and wisdom, showed him to be worthy to sit 
near even a man of the sheik’s high rank and fame. 

The sheik was very sad, and the youths suspected 
their summons to be an artifice of the old dervish, to 
relieve the sorrowing father’s oppression by leading 
him into conversation with other men. 

‘‘ Welcome, young friends,’ said Ali Banu; ‘ wel- 
come to my house. My aged friend here deserves my 
thanks for having brought you hither; but I ant some- 
what vexed with him, too, for not having given me your 
friendship earlier. Which of you is the young scribe ?”’ 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 231 


‘‘T, my lord, and the humblest of your servants,’ 
said the clerk, crossing his arms on his breast, and 
making a low obeisance. 

“So you are fond of listening to good stories, and 
like to read books of poems, you say ?”’ } 

The young man answered, blushing deeply: ‘‘ My 
lord, I know no more delightful occupation than to 
spend the day in such enjoyments. But each man has 
his own tastes. And I blame no one who —”’ 

‘Very good! very good!” interrupted the sheik, 
laughing, and signing to the second. ‘‘And who are 
you?” 

“« My lord, I am a physician’s pupil, and have cured 
several sick persons already myself.” 

““Good!’’ replied the sheik. ‘‘ And you it is who 
love a merry life. You would like to dine occasionally 
with a few choice friends? Have I guessed your 
wishes ?’’ Deicd: 

The young man was abashed. He felt he had been 
betrayed, and that the old stranger had reported to the 
sheik what he had said. Plucking up courage, how- 
ever, he replied: ‘‘ Yes, my lord; I count it one of the 
felicities of life to be able to make merry now and then 
with a few tried friends. My purse goes no further 
now than to entertain them with watermelons and such 
cheap luxuries. We are happy even with these; but, 
had I more money, I doubt not we should be far more 
80.” 

The sheik was delighted with this frank reply, and 
laughed heartily. ‘‘ Which of you is the merchant? ” 
he continued. 

The young merchant bowed with an air of good- 
breeding before the sheik, and the latter said : 

‘So you take pleasure in music and the dance? You 


232 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


enjoy hearing good musicians play and sing, and like 
to witness the performances of skilful dancers ? ”’ 

The young merchant replied: ‘I see clearly, my lord 
sheik, that yonder venerable dervish has been describ- 
ing our follies for your amusement. If he has thereby 
succeeded in lightening your sorrows I am well content. 
As regards music and dancing, I confess that there is 
something in them which delights my heart. But think 
not, my lord, that I find fault, because you too do not—”’ 

‘‘Enough, no more!”’ cried the sheik, laughing, and 
stopping him with a motion of his hand. ‘ Every one 
to his tastes, you would say. But there stands still 
another ; this must be he who is so fond of travelling. 
And who are you, young gentleman ? ”’ 

“‘T am a painter, my lord,’”’ answered the young man 
addressed ; ‘‘a landscape painter. To visit foreign 
countries is the fondest wish of my heart; for what an 
artist sketches from nature is in general far more beau- 
tiful than the scenes of his own invention.”’ 

The sheik gazed at the handsome youths, and his 
glance was grave and sad. ‘I had once a dear son,” 
he said, ‘‘and he would now have been of your age. 
Had he remained with me, you should have been his 
comrades, and each one’s wish should have been satis- 
fied by him. With you he would have read, with you 
heard music, with this young man he would have made 
merry with his friends, and with the artist here I would 
have sent him to visit scenes of beauty, certain of his 
return. But Allah has willed otherwise, and I submit 
without a murmur. It still lies in my power to fulfil 
your wishes, and you shall go from Ali Banu with 
joyful hearts. You, my honored friend,’’ he continued, 
turning to the clerk, ‘“‘shall reside henceforward in my 
house, in charge of my library. You can procure for 


THE SHEIK OF ALEXANDRIA. 233 


_ it what books you wish and value, and your only duty 
shall be to describe to me the beauties which you meet 
with in your reading. You, my young friend, who love 
a good table and the society of friends, shall be the 
superintendent of my pleasures. I myself lead a joy- 
less life; but my office brings with it the necessity of 
entertaining guests. You shall have charge of all such 
matters in my place, and can invite what friends of 
yours you please: let it be to something better than 
watermelons. I must not,” he continued, turning to 
the young tradesman, ‘‘ draw away the merchant from 
his business ; but every evening, my young friend, shall 
dancers and musicians be at your command, as many as 
you will. Enjoy music and dancing to your heart’s 
desire. And you,” he said to the painter, ‘‘ shall visit 
strange lands, and cultivate your taste by foreign travel. 
My treasurer shall furnish you a thousand pieces of 
gold, two horses, and a slave, to equip you for your 
departure. Travel whither your wishes lead, and when 
you see some lovely landscape, paint it for me.”’ 

The young men were speechless with gratitude and 
joy. They attempted to kiss the ground at the feet 
of their benefactor, but he prevented them. ‘If you 
have any one to thank,”’ said he, ‘it is this wise old 
man, who told me concerning you. He has been the 
means of bringing pleasure to me also, in making me 
acquainted with four such excellent young men.” 

The dervish Mustapha checked their thanks. ‘‘ See,’ 
said he, ‘‘ how unwise are hasty judgments! Did I say 
too much of this noble man —”’ 

“Let us listen now to another of the slaves who are 
released to-day,’”’ interrupted Ali Banu; and the young 
men retired to their seats. 

The young slave, whose beauty and courageous 

20* 


234 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


glance had attracted such general admiration, now stood 
up, and bowing before the sheik, began in a musical 
voice the following tale. 





THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 


My Lord Sheik, the men who have preceded me have 
told you many wonderful tales learned in foreign coun- 
tries. I confess with shame that I have no story worthy 
your attention. Let me describe, unless I tire you, the 
strange fate of one of my friends. 

On board the Algerian corsair, from which your gen- 
erous hand released me, was a young man of my own 
age, who seemed to me born to a better destiny than a 
life of servitude. The other prisoners on board the 
vessel were either ferocious wretches with whom I could 
not sympathize, or people whose language I could not 
understand. In consequence, at every leisure moment, 
I gladly sought the society of the young captive. He 
called himself Almansor, and his language showed him 
to be an Egyptian. We conceived a warm friendship 
‘for one another, and went so far one day as to tell each 
other our adventures; and of these my friend’s were far 
more remarkable than mine. 

Almansor’s father was a distinguished man in one 
of the cities of Egypt, the name of which he did not tell 
me. His childhood passed happily away in the midst 
of every luxury and comfort ; yet was he not brought 
up effeminately, for his soul had been trained from his 
infancy to manly thoughts. Ilis wise and prudent 
father had early taught him the necessity of virtue, and 
he had had besides a learned and famous dervish for his 





hui 


CX 








ALMANSOR. 





THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 235 


instructor, who had imparted to him all the accomplish- 
ments which a youth of family and fortune ought to be 
familiar with. Almansor was ten years of age when the 
Franks invaded his country from beyond the sea, and 
made war upon the people of his nation. 

The father of the boy must have been ill-affected to- 
wards the Franks, for one day, when about to go to 
morning prayers, they came to his house and demanded 
his wife as a hostage for his sincerity ; and on his refusal 
they carried his son by force into their camp — 

At this point of the slave’s recital the sheik covered 
his face with his hands, and a murmur of indignant dis- 
approval ran through the hall. The superintendent, full 
of anger, ordered the slave to cease. The young man 
was of course much surprised, and inquired of Ali Banu 
whether any part of his story had been the occasion of 
this excitement. The sheik regained his firmness at the 
question, and said: ‘‘Be calm, my friends. How can 
this youth know aught of my unhappy fate? May it 
not be that, among the horrors perpetrated by these 
Franks, some wretched father met a like misfortune to 
myself? May it not be that this Almansor Con- 
tinue, continue, my young friend.” 

The slave bowed and proceeded : 

Almansor was carried to the Frankish camp. His life 
there was not a painful one, for one of the officers caused 
him to be brought to his tent, and was delighted with 
the intelligence of the lad’s answers, which a dragoman 
translated to him. He took care that he should not 
want for food and clothing ; but a yearning to return to 
his father made the child extremely unhappy. He spent 
several days in constant weeping; but his tears had no 
effect upon his stern captors. The camp was broken up, 
and Almansor now believed they would permit him to 





= 


236 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


depart; but it was not so. The army moved about the 
country, warring with the Mamelukes, and Almansor 
was compelled to accompany it. When he implored the 
generals to suffer him to go back, they sternly refused, 
telling him he must remain as a hostage for his father’s 
faith. Thus was he kept on the incessant march for 
many days. 

All at once rumors circulated through the camp, which 
did not escape the boy’s attention. They spoke of re- 
treating, of reémbarking, and Almansor was crazy with 
delight; for now, if the Franks retired to their own 
country, he would be released. Cavalry and infantry 
retired toward the coast, and at length, after traversing 
a great extent of country, they could see their ships 
lying at anchor in the bay. The soldiers proceeded to 
embark ; but night surprised them before many had left 
the shore. Anxiously as Almansor strove to remain 
awake, thinking every moment to be set at liberty, he 
fell at last into a profound sleep; and it was his belief, 
he said, that the Franks had mingled some soporific with 
his food. When he again awoke, the light of day was 
shining brightly into a little chamber, in which he was 
sure he had not fallen asleep. He sprang up, but fell 
on reaching the floor, for the floor was rocking to and 
fro, and everything seemed to be dancing in a circle 
around him. He gathered himself up, and was obliged 
to hold fast by the wall, to be able to quit the chamber 
in which he had been lying. 

A strange roaring and whistling fell upon his ear, 
unlike any sounds he had ever heard before. He came 
at length to a little flight of stairs, and, mounting them 
with difficulty, what was his horror to find himself on 
board a ship, and in every direction nothing to be seen 
but sky and sea! He began to weep bitterly, and 


THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 237 


demanded to be taken back. He attempted to leap 
overboard and swim ashore; but the Franks held him 
fast, and one of the officers calling him before him, 
promised to restore him before long to his native coun- 
try, and represented to him how impossible it was to 
send him back by land ; saying that, had they abandoned 
him on shore, he would assuredly have perished. 

But the Franks did not fulfil their word, for the ship 
continued to sail for many days, and when it at last 
came to an anchor, he found himself not on the coast 
of Egypt, but in France! Almansor had learned, 
during his long voyage and his residence in the camp, 
perfectly to understand and speak the French tongue}; 
an acquisition which stood him in excellent stead in 
this foreign country. He was carried, for many days, 
into the interior, and everywhere the people assembled 
in crowds to see him; for his captors gave it out that 
he was the son of the King of Egypt, who had sent him 
to France to complete his education. 

But the soldiers merely said this to lead the people 
to believe that they had conquered Egypt, and stood 
on terms of peace and friendship with that nation. 
After a journey through the country of several days, 
they arrived at a vast city, the terminus of their march, 
where Almansor was entrusted to the care of a phy- 
sician, to be instructed by him in the customs and man- 
ners of the French nation. 

He was first of all compelled to adopt the Frankish - 
dress, which is very narrow and straight, and far 
less graceful than the Egyptian costume. He was 
taught to discontinue bowing with folded arms, and 
instructed, when he wished to show respect, to lift 
from his head with one hand the huge black hat, uni- 
versally worn there, bring his other hand down close to 


238 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


his side, and scrape with the right foot. He was for- 
bidden to sit with crossed legs, — that graceful habit of 
Eastern lands, — and was instructed to perch himself on 
high chairs, and leave his legs to dangle to the ground. 
The French mode of eating gave him much trouble; 
for everything he wished to carry to his mouth he was 
compelled first to trausfix with an iron fork. 

The doctor with whom he lived was a harsh, stern 
man, and treated the boy unkindly. If he ever hap- 
pened to forget himself, and, for example, addressed a 
visitor with ‘‘ Schalem Aleikum,’’ instead of ‘‘ Votre Servi- 
teur,’? his master would beat him with a stick. He 
forbade him to think or speak in his native tongue, and 
Almansor would probably have soon forgotten his own 
language, had it not been for a man who lived in the 
same city, and who, in some particulars, was of the 
greatest service to him. 

This was an old and very learned man, acquainted 
with many Eastern languages, — Arabic, Persian, Cop- 
tic, and Chinese. He passed in France for a miracle 
of learning, and earned a handsome income by instruct- 
ing people in these tongues. This person invited 
Almansor to his house several times each week, enter- 
taining him on such occasions with rare fruits and 
sweetmeats. The lad, while here, could almost believe 
he was at home; for the old gentleman was of sin- 
gularly eccentric habits. He had clothes made for 
Almansor like those worn by men of distinction in 
Egypt, and kept them laid away in a private room. 
As often as Almansor came, he sent him with a servant 
to this chamber, and caused him to be dressed from 
head to foot in the fashion of his country; he was then 
taken to a large apartment in the wise man’s house, 
which went by the name of ‘‘ Lesser Araby.” 


THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 239 


This room or hall was decorated with all sorts of 
artificial trees, such as palms, bamboos, cedars, and the 
like, and flowers native only to Eastern lands. Per- 
sian carpets covered the floor, and, in place of French 
tables or chairs, handsome cushions were laid against 
the walls. The professor sat on one of these cushions 
totally disguised. He wore on his head a Turkish - 
shawl folded as a turban; and fastened to his chin was 
a gray, artificial beard, reaching to his girdle, and 
resembling the natural beard of some venerable Eastern 
magnate. In addition to these he wore a éalar cut 
from a brocaded bed-gown, wide Turkish trousers, and 
yellow slippers ; and, peaceable as was his disposition, 
girded himself, on these occasions, with a huge scime- 
tar, and thrust into his girdle a dagger studded with 
mock jewels. Here he would smoke a pipe two yards 
long, and was waited on in Oriental style by servants 
whom he thrust into Persian clothes, and whose hands 
and faces he dyed of a jet black. 

Naturally enough all this seemed absurd to the 
young Egyptian ; but he soon perceived that, by accom- 
modating himself to the old man’s humor, he might 
make these visits of extreme advantage to himself. 
While with the doctor no Egyptian word was per- 
mitted ; here, on the contrary, the French language was 
entirely prohibited. Almansor was expected, on enter- 
ing, to give the Oriental salutation of peace, which the 
professor responded to with great solemnity. He would 
then motion to the young man to seat himself by his 
side, and begin a mixture of Persian, Arabic, Coptic, 
and other languages, under the belief that it was a 
learned Oriental conversation. Near him would be 
standing one of his servants, holding a large book. 
This was a dictionary, and when the old gentleman 


240 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


was at a loss for a word, he would make a sign to 
his slave, hastily open the volume, find what he 
wanted, and continue his conversation. 

The slaves brought also sherbet and such articles, in 
Turkish cups, and Almansor had only to say that every- 
thing was conducted precisely as in Eastern lands, to 
occasion the old gentleman the supremest satisfaction. 
His greatest recommendation in the eyes of the old 
professor, however, was the fluency with which he 
read Persian. The latter had in his possession numer- 
ous Persian manuscripts, which he would direct Alman- 
sor to read aloud, while he read carefully after him, in 
order to acquire the correct pronunciation. 

Such days were festivals to poor Almansor; for the 
professor never allowed him to retire without a present, 
and he often carried away with him costly gifts in 
money, linen, or other useful articles. Almansor lived 
in this way several years in the capital of France, and 
the intensity of his homesickness was never so much 
moderated. But, about his fifteenth year, an event hap- 
pened which exerted much influence over his subse- 
quent fate. 

The Franks had chosen their greatest general — the 
same one who had so often talked with Almansor in 
Egypt — to be their king. Almansor knew by the 
universal festivities that some great event had taken 
place ; but still he could not believe that the new king 
was the same person whom he had known in Egypt, 
for that general had been a man of extreme youth. 
But one day Almansor was crossing one of the many 
bridges which span the broad river encircling the city, 
and, while doing so, became aware of a man in a 
plain military uniform, leaning on the parapet, and 
gazing down upon the water. The soldier’s features 


e 


THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 241 


struck him as familiar. He traversed rapidly all the 
chambers of his memory, and, on recalling Egypt, sud- 
denly became conscious that this man was the same 
French general whom he had often talked with in the 
camp, and who had interested himself so often in his 
weli-being. He had never known his real name, but, 
plucking up courage, he approached him, 4nd, calling 
him by the title by which he had been known among 
the soldiers of his army, crossed his arms upon his 
breast in the manner of his nation, and said: ‘ Schalem 
Aleikum, petit caporal.”’ 

The man looked round astonished, and, turning a 
sharp glance upon the young man, reflected a moment, 
and exclaimed: ‘‘ Heavens! Is it possible? You 
here, Almansor? Where is your father? How go 
affairs in Egypt? What brings you here?” 

Almansor could no longer restrain himself, but said, 
bursting into tears: ‘Then you do not know, petit 
caporal, how the hounds, your countrymen, have used 
me? You did not know that I have not seen the land 
of my fathers for many years ? ”’ 

‘‘T cannot believe,’”’ said the man, and his brow grew 
dark, ‘‘ that they stole you away with them when they 
left your country.” 

“Alas! itis true!” answered Almansor “On the 
day when your army embarked, I saw my country for 
the last time. They brought me away with them, and 
an officer, who pitied my miserable condition, paid 
money for my support to an accursed doctor, who beats 
me, and leaves me to die of hunger. But listen, petit 
caporal,’’? he continued; ‘‘I am ee in SS 
you here, for you must help me.’ 

The man laughed, and tak how he should serve 


ee 21 


242 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘‘Look, petit caporal,’’? said Almansor, ‘it would 
be dishonor to beg of you. You were always good to 
me; but I know you are a poor man, and, though you 
were the general, you were never so well dressed as the 
others. And even now, to judge from your coat and 
hat, you are far from being in easy circumstances. But 
the Franks have lately chosen a sultan, and without 
doubt you are acquainted with people who may some- 
times approach him, — perhaps the aga of his janissaries, 
or his reis effendi, or his capudan pasha. Is it not 
so ?”’ 

“‘Yes,’’ answered the man; “ what then?’’ 

“You might put in a good word for me with these 
officers, pelit caporal, so that they may beg the sultan 
of the Franks to let me go home. I need a little money, 
besides, for a journey across the sea; but you must 
promise, above all, to say nothing about it to the doc- 
tor or the Arabic professor.”’ 

“Who is the Arabic professor?’ inquired the 
stranger. 

“ Ah, petit caporal, he is a strange being, and I will 
tell you about him another time. If those two were to 
hear of this, ] should never get away from Frankistan. 
But will you speak to the aga for me? Answer me 
frankly.”’ 

‘«Come with me,’ 
be of service to you.” 

‘‘Now?”’ cried the lad with dismay. ‘‘ By no means, 
petit caporal; the doctor would cudgel me. I must 
hurry home this moment.”’ 

‘‘ What are you carrying in your basket ?”’ asked the 
other, taking him by the arm. 

Almansor blushed, and at first refused to show it. 

‘“‘ Look, petit caporal, 1 am compelled to serve here 


> said the officer; ‘‘ perhaps I can 


THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 243 


like my father’s meanest slave. The doctor is an ava- 
ricious man, and sends me every day a walk of several 
miles to the fish-market, because things are a trifle 
cheaper there than in our quarter of the city. See! for 
the sake of this wretched herring, for the sake of this 
handful of lettuce and this scrap of butter, I am obliged 
to walk two leagues. Ah, if my father did but know 
re le 

The soldier seemed to sympathize with the boy’s 
misery, and answered : ‘‘ Come with me, and be of good 
courage. The doctor shall not harm you, even if he 
loses to-day both herring and lettuce. Take heart, and 
come with me.”’ 

Saying this, he took Almansor by the arm, and led 
him away; and, though his heart throbbed when he 
thought of the doctor, yet so much encouragement lay 
in the words and manner of his new-found friend, that 
he resolved to follow him. He went on through many 
streets by the side of the soldier, his basket on his arm, 
and wondered greatly that everybody they met took off 
his hat as they approached. He mentioned this to his 
guide, but the latter laughed and made no reply. 

They came at length to a splendid palace, when his 
friend halted. 

‘‘Do you live here, petit caporal?’”’ asked Almansor. 

“‘This is my home,”’ replied the unknown. ‘“‘ I must 
present you to my wife.” 

‘‘Is it possible?’’ continued Almansor. “Surely 
the sultan must have given you this palace ?”’ 

“You are right; I received this house from the sul- 
tan,’”’ answered the stranger, leading him into the ,pal- 
ace. They mounted a flight of stairs, and, directing 
him to set down his basket, his guide led him into a 
superb apartment, where sat a lady on a high divan. 


244 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


The man said something in a foreign language, at which 
both laughed heartily, and the lady made several inqui- 
ries of Almansor in the French tongue concerning 
Egypt. Finally, petit caporal said to the lad : 

‘‘] will tell you the best course for you to follow. I 
widl take you to the emperor himself, and speak to him 
in your favor.” 

Almansor was terribly startled ; but he thought of his 
misery and of his native land, and said: 

‘Allah gives courage to the unfortunate in the hour 
of need, and he will not abandon a poor, sorrowing boy. 
I will go to the emperor. But tell me, caporal, must 
I fall at his feet? Must I touch the floor with my head ? 
What must I do?” 

Both laughed again at this, and assured him that all 
such ceremonies were unnecessary. 

‘‘Has he a terrible and majestic aspect ?’’ he then 
asked. ‘‘ Has he along beard? Are his eyes flames ? 
Tell me, how does he look ?”’ 

His guide laughed still more heartily, and answered : 

“JT will not describe him, Almansor; you shall judge 
for yourself. But I will give you this sign by which to 
know him. Every one in the hall will take off his hat 
respectfully when the emperor enters. Ile who con- 
tinues to wear it will be the man you seek.” 

Saying this, he took him by the hand, and went with 
him into the emperor’s hall. The nearer he came, the 
louder beat his heart, and by the time they reached the 
door his knees knocked together. A servant opened 
the door, and there stood, in a half circle, at least thirty 
men, superbly dressed, and covered with gold and stars, 
as is the custom in the land of the Franks with the royal 
agas and pashas; and Almansor thought to himself that 
his guide, plainly clothed as he was, must be the 


THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 245 


humblest of them all. All stood with heads uncov- 
ered, and Almansor began to search about for him who 
continued to wear his hat; but he sought in vain. All 
had their hats in their hands, and the emperor could not 
be among them. Suddenly his eye fell on his new pro- 
tector, and see—his hat retained its place upon his 
head ! 

The boy was amazed — bewildered. He gazed long 
at his companion, and said at last, taking off his hat: 

‘“‘ Schalem Aleikum, petit caporal! To the best of my 
knowledge, I am not the Frankish sultan, and it belongs 
not to me to cover my head. Yet you are the one who 
wears his hat. Petit caporal, can you be the sultan?” 

‘“You have guessed my secret,’’ answered the empe- 
ror, ‘‘and henceforward I am your friend. Ascribe 
your misfortunes not to me, but to the direful confusion 
of the times, and rest assured that you shall be restored 
by the first ship which sails for your father’s land. Go 
now back to my wife, and tell her of the professor of 
Arabic, and whatever else you know. I will send the 
herrings and the lettuce to the doctor, but you must 
dwell for the future in my palace.” 

Thus spoke the emperor. Almansor fell at his feet, 
and, kissing his hand, implored his forgiveness for not 
having recognized his rank, and protested, with tears, 
his innocence of all intentional disrespect. 

“You are right,’’ replied his majesty, laughing. ‘‘A 
man who has been emperor only a day or two, cannot 
expect to have his rank blazoned on his forehead.” 
Saying this, he motioned him to retire. 

Henceforth Almansor lived happy and unmolested. 
The Arabic professor, of whom he had spoken, he still 
occasionally visited; but the doctor he never saw 
again. Some weeks after these events, the emperor 

: 21* 


246 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


summoned him into his presence, and informed him that 
the ship in which he had designed to send him to 
Egypt, was lying at anchor, and about to sail. Al- 
mansor was beside himself with joy. <A few days suf: 
ficed to equip him for the voyage, and richly laden with 
valuable gifts, and with a heart swelling with grati- 
tude, he bade farewell to the good emperor, and em- 
barked. 

But Allah designed to prove him still longer, still 
longer strengthen his courage by disaster, and forbade 
him yet to see his native shores. Another Frank- 
ish nation, called English, was waging war at this 
time with the emperor, on the sea. They seized every 
ship which they could conquer; and it came about 
that on the sixth day of their voyage the ship which 
carried Amansor was attacked and captured by an Eng- 
lish frigate. It was compelled to surrender, and all its 
passengers and crew were placed on board a smaller 
vessel which accompanied the larger. But, at sea, life 
is not less insecure than in our deserts, where robbers 
fall suddenly on the unsuspecting caravan, and murder 
and rob its merchants. <A corsair from Tunis attacked 
the tender, which had been separated from the frigate 
by a storm, captured it, and its whole crew were carried 
to Algiers and sold. 

Almansor, being a true believer, found his servitude 
less rigorous than that of the Christian dogs, his fel- 
lows, but still all hopes of seeing again his father and 
his home were for the second time overthrown. Le 
lived here five years in the service of a rich lord, and 
was made to water his flowers and tend his garden. 
This rich man dying without heirs, his property was 
divided, and Almansor fell into the hands of a slave- 
dealer. This person fitted out a ship, about this time, 


THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 247 


to carry his slaves to a better market. Chance willed 
that I myself was one of these slaves, and I was put on 
board the same ship which held Almansor. Here we 
became acquainted with each other, and here he de- 
scribed to me his remarkable adventures. When we 
landed I was a witness of Allah’s wonderful providence. 
It was the shore of his native country on which we dis- 
embarked, —it was the market of his native city where 
we were exposed for sale, — and, my lord, let me say it 
briefly, it was his own dear father who purchased him 
from the dealer ! 





The Sheik Ali Banu was plunged by this story into 
deep thought. It had interested him deeply, and his 
breast heaved, his eyes glowed, and he had been fre- 
quently on the point of interrupting the narrator; but 
the end of the tale seemed not to satisfy him. 

‘‘He was about one-and-twenty years of age, you 
say ?’’ he began. 

‘““My lord, he was of my age —two-and-twenty 
years.”’ 

‘And what city did he call his birthplace? You 
have not yet told us.”’ 

“Tf J am not wrong,” answered the slave, ‘‘it was 
Alexandria.”’ 

‘« Alexandria!’ exclaimed the sheik. ‘It is my son! 
Whither did he go? Said you not his name was Kai- 
ram? Had he dark eyes and brown hair?’ 

‘‘He had, my lord sheik, and in his hours of melan- 
choly called himself Kairam, and not Almansor.’’ 

“But, Allah! Allah! said you his father bought him 
before your eyes? Did he say he was his father? Alas, 
he cannot, then, be my son!”’ 

‘He said to me, ‘ Allah be praised, after such long 


"248 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


misfortune! This is the market-place of the city of my 
birth.’ Soon after, a distinguished-looking man came to 
our corner, and he cried, ‘I see my dear father once 
again!’ The nobleman approached us, and, looking at 
one after another, at length bought him of whom this tale 
is told. He uttered a devout prayer of thanks to Allah, 
and whispered to me, ‘I return once more to the scene 
of my former happiness. It is my own father who has 
bought me.’ ” 

‘‘Tt cannot be my son, my long-lost Kairam!”’ said 
the sheik, overpowered with emotion. 

The youth could restrain himself no longer. With 
tears of joy streaming from his eyes, he threw himself 
at the sheik’s feet, and cried, ‘‘ And yet it 7s your son, 
Kairam Almansor, for it was you who bought him! ”’ 

“Allah! Allah! A wonder! a miracle!’ shouted 
the audience, pressing around father and son. The 
sheik stood speechless, gazing at the youth, who 
raised his beautiful face towards his. ‘‘ My friend 
Mustapha,” he said to the aged dervish, ‘‘ before my 
eyes hangs a veil of tears, so that I cannot see whether 
the features of the mother who bore my Kairam are 
here imprinted on this young man’s face. Step hither 
and look for me.” 

The old man drew near, gazed on him a long while, 
and, laying his hand on the youth’s brow, said, ‘‘ Kai- 
ram! what was the saying which I gave you in the 
Frankish camp, in the days of your misfortune ? ”’ 

“My darling teacher,’’ answered the young slave, 
pressing the old man’s hand to his lips, ‘‘ it was this : 
‘So that one loves Allah, and keeps his conscience pure, 
in the desert of misery, he is not alone; for he has two 
consolers ever at his side.’ ”’ 

Raising his eyes gratefully to heaven, the aged dervish 


THE HISTORY OF ALMANSOR. 249 


drew the youth upon his breast, and gave him to the 
sheik, saying, ‘‘Take him to your heart; as surely 
as you have mourned for him ten long years, so surely 
has your son Kairam returned to you at last.”’ 

The sheik was beside himself with joy and rapture. 
He gazed again and again at the features of the 
returned wanderer, and found unmistakably the image 
of the son whom he had lost. All present shared his 
delight ; for they all loved the good sheik, and every 
person there felt as if he had this day regained a 
son himself. 

Song and revelry again filled the halls. The young 
man was made to tell his story over again, more minutely 
than before, and all praised the Arabic professor, and 
the emperor, and every one who had been kind to 
Kairam. The rejoicings lasted far into the night, and 
when they separated the sheik made a costly present to 
each of his friends, to remind them pleasantly of his day 
of joy. 

The four young men he presented to his son, and 
invited them to pay him frequent visits; and it was 
arranged that he should read with the clerk, make 
short excursions with the painter, the merchant should 
enjoy with him the song and dance, and the fourth 
should superintend all the enjoyments and pleasures of 
the others. Hach was then presented with a handsome 
gift ; and they left the sheik’s house in a state of per- 
fect contentment. x 

‘“‘To whom are we indebted for all this,” said they 
among themselves, “if not to the old stranger? Who 
would have expected this result, when we were stand- 
ing opposite this house, and criticizing the sheik ?”’ 

‘« And how easy it would have been for us to neglect 
the old man!’’ said another of them, ‘ or to have 


250 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


despised and repulsed him! Ile looked very ragged 
and poor. Who, could have suspected him to be the 
wise Mustapha ?”’ 

“Strange !— was it not here that we expressed our 
wishes?’’ said the scribe. ‘One preferred travel, 
another singing and dancing, a third agreeable society, 
and I to read and listen to stories; and are not all our 
wishes fully accomplished? Can I not read or buy all 
the books I want ?”’ 

‘““And can I not regulate the sheik’s table, and 
superintend his choicest pleasures, as well as be at 
them myself ?’’ said the second. 

“And as often as I feel inclined to hear singing and 
music, or see dancing, can I not come hither, and ask 
for his slaves to entertain me ?”’ 

‘‘And I!’’ cried the painter; ‘‘ yesterday, 1 was a 
poor artist, unable to set foot beyond the city ; now I 
can travel where I will.” 

‘‘ Yes,’’ said they all; ‘(it was a good thing that we 
listened to the old. stranger. Who knows what might 
otherwise have become of us?” 

Thus, they talked together, and went home happy 
and fortunate. 


i a 


| etl 
oa * 
> lo 


ae ure sy 
seh 
4, 

ee 


‘ 
eee 
: ie, Se 

7a 








THE TAVERN OF SPESSART. 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 





Many years ago, when the roads in Spessart were 
much less frequented than they are now, two young 
men were wending their way through the forest. One 
of them, about eighteen years of age, followed the trade 
of compass-maker ; while the other, a goldsmith, could 
scarcely have exceeded his sixteenth year, and was 
evidently making his first journey into the world. The 
evening was far advanced, and the narrow path which 
the two friends followed was darkened by the shadows 
of gigantic pines and beeches. The compass-maker 
strode boldly on, whistling an air and playing occa- 
sionally with his dog Pluck, and seemed little affected 
by the knowledge that night was close at hand, and 
that the nearest inn was far distant. But Felix, the 
goldsmith, often looked round uneasily. When the 
wind muttered through the trees, he believed he heard 
footsteps coming behind him. When the shrubs along 
the path waved, or opened for a moment, he could not 
help thinking he saw faces lurking behind them. 

The young goldsmith was usually neither superstitious 
nor timid. In Wurzburg, where he had learned his trade, 
he passed with his comrades for an intrepid lad whose 
heart was in the right place; but to-day a strange 
depression affected his spirits. He had been told so 
much of the dangers of Spessart ; — that a numerous band 


252 THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 


of robbers plied their trade in the forest; that many 
travellers had been plundered within the last few 
weeks ; nay, that dreadful deeds of blood had been 
committed there at no distant time ;— that he could not 
banish the thought that he and his friend were only 
two defenceless men, and could offer little resistance to 
a gang of armed marauders. He regretted that he 
had been persuaded by the compass-maker to go on 
another stage, instead of remaining over night at the 
entrance of the forest. 

“Tf Iam murdered to-night, and robbed of every- 
thing I have, it is your fault, compass-maker, for you 
have brought me into this frightful wood.” 

‘‘Don’t be acoward!”’ replied the other. ‘ A travel- 
ling journeyman should never be afraid. What is it 
you dread? Do you think that the gentlemen robbers 
in Spessart will do us the honor to attack and murder 
us? Why should they take the trouble? For the sake 
of my Sunday-coat in the knapsack, or the dollar we 
have for expenses? Men must travel in companies, 
and be dressed in silk and gold, to make it worth these 
robbers’ while to murder them for booty. ” 

‘Stop! did you hear a whistle in the forest ?’’ cried 
Felix, in agony. 

“Tt was only the wind whistling through the trees. 
Step out bravely ;.this road cannot be much longer.” 

“It’s very well for you to talk as you do about being 
murdered,’’ continued the goldsmith. ‘‘They ask you 
what you have, and at most take away your Sunday- 
coat, and a few kreutzers. But me they will murder 
on the spot, for the sake of the jewels and trinkets I 
have about me.”’ 

‘‘Bah! why should they murder you for that? Sup- 
pose four or five men came out of that bush, with 


ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 253 


loaded guns, and should say very politely, * Gentle- 
men, what have you in your pockets?’ or, ‘Give 
yourselves no uneasiness, gentlemen, we will help you 
carry your burdens.’ You would not behave like a 
fool; you would open your knapsack, lay your yellow 
vest, and your blue coat, your two shirts, and your 
necklaces, bracelets, combs, and what not, politely on 
the ground, and consider yourself a lucky fellow for 
saving your life so easily.” 

‘‘ And do you think,’”’ answered Felix, ‘‘I would sur- 
render so easily, the jewels 1 am carrying to my god- 
mother, the countess? My life sooner! — sooner be cut 
into little pieces! Has she not always been a mother 
to me, and brought me up since I was ten years old? 
Has she not paid for my education, my clothes, my 
everything? And now, when I can visit her, and 
carry her some of my own work which she ordered 
of my master, —when I can show her some specimens of 
the beautiful trade I have learned,-— am I to give up 
everything? And the yellow vest, which she gave me, 
besides? No, I will die before I will give my god- 
mother’s jewels to these rascals.” 

“Don’t be a fool!’ cried the compass-maker. ‘ If 
they murder you, the countess will not get her jewels 
any sooner. So it is better for you to give them up, 
and save your life.”’ 

Felix made no reply. The night was by this time 
upon them, and by the dim light of the moon they could 
scarcely see three paces in advance. Felix grew more 
uneasy every moment, kept closer by his friend’s side, 
and hesitated whether to assent to his arguments or not. 
After advancing for nearly a league, they perceived a 
light in the distance. The young goldsmith suggested 
that they should not trustit, for it might be the house of 

22 


254 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the robbers; but the compass-maker answered that 
robbers had their houses, or rather their holes, under 
ground, and that this must be the tavern to which they 
had been directed by aman who met them at the en- 
trance of the wood. 

The house was long and low, and before it stood a 
cart, the horses of which they could hear neighing in 
the stable. The compass-maker beckoned his compan- 
ion to a window, the shutters of which stood open. By 
standing on tiptoe, they could overlook the whole room. 
A man was sleeping in a chair by the fireplace, who, 
judging by his dress, was probably a carrier, and doubt- 
less the owner of the cart before the door. On the 
opposite side, a woman and her maid sat spinning. Be- 
yond the table, and against the wall, sat a man with 
a glass of wine before him, his head resting in his 
hands, so that his features could not be seen The 
compass-maker inferred from his dress, however, that 
he was a man of considerable rank. 

While they were still peering in, a dog barked inside 
the house. Pluck answered, and a maid-servant ap- 
peared at the door, and looked out at the strangers. 

On the promise of obtaining supper and beds, they 
entered the house, and, laying down their heavy bun- 
dles and their hats and sticks in a corner, seated them- 
selves at the table near the gentleman. The latter, 
raising his head at their salute, proved to be a hand- 
some young man, who thanked them courteously for 
their greeting. 

‘‘You are late on the road,” said he. ‘‘ Were you 
not afraid to travel through Spessart so dark a night ? 
For my own part, I preferred to put up my horse at 
this tavern, to riding a single league further.” 

“You were perfectly right, sir,’’ answered the com- 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 255 


pass-maker. ‘‘ The footsteps of a fine horse are music 
to the ears of robbers. They will hear it a league dis- 
tant ; but when a couple of poor lads like us creep on 
foot through the forest, people whom the robbers would 
be obliged to help instead of plundering, they never stir 
a foot!” 

‘“‘That is so,’’? said the carrier, who had been waked 
by the entrance of the new-comers. ‘‘ They cannot 
make much in the shape of money out of a poor man. 
But there are instances where they have cut down 
poor people from a mere lust for murder, or else com- 
pelled them to enter their gang and serve as robbers 
themselves.”’ 

‘“‘Nay, if that is the kind of people in this forest,’’ 
said the young goldsmith, ‘this house will be little 
protection to us. We are only four, or, with the host- 
ler, five ; and, suppose a dozen of them saw fit to attack 
us, what resistance could we make? And, besides,’’ 
he added, in a whisper, ‘‘ what reason have we for think- 
ing that the people of this house are honest ?”’ 

‘“No fear of that,’’ answered the carrier. ‘I have 
known this tavern for ten years, and have never noticed 
anything suspicious. The master is seldom at home; 
they say he deals in wine. The woman is a very quiet 
person, and will harm nobody. No; you do her injus- 
tice, young man.” 

‘« And yet,” broke in the gentleman, ‘‘I cannot easily 
forget what people say about them. You remember 
the rumor of those persons who disappeared some time 
ago, in this forest, and left no trace of their wherea- 
bouts. Several people said they had spent the night in 
this tavern; and yet, when weeks elapsed, and noth- 
ing was heard of their fate, and their path had been 
traced as far as this house, the reply to every inquiry 


256 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


was that they had never been here. It is certainly sus- 
picious.”’ 

‘God knows it is! ’’ cried the compass-maker. ‘‘ It 
would have been safer for us to have passed the night 
under the nearest tree, than within these four walls, 
where escape is impossible; for the windows are 
grated.” 

The turn the conversation had taken made them all 
thoughtful. It seemed far from improbable that this 
road-side inn was, either by free will or compulsion, in 
alliance with the robbers. The night threatened there- 
fore to be perilous, for they had heard many stories 
of travellers attacked and murdered in their sleep ; and, 
even if their lives were not in danger, yet some of the 
guests of the tavern were of such narrow means that 
the loss of even a part of their property would have 
been extremely embarrassing. The four companions 
looked moodily into their glasses. The young gentle- 
man wished he was travelling on his trusty horse 
through a safe, open valley; the compass-inaker, that 
he had a dozen of his comrades, armed with cudgels, as 
a body-guard. Felix, the goldsmith, was unhappy, 
more for the sake of his benefactress’ jewels, than him- 
self; but the carrier, who sat blowing the smoke of his 
pipe from his lips with a thoughtful air, said, after a 
pause: ‘‘ Gentlemen, we ought not to permit them to 
surprise us in our sleep. I, for one, will keep guard all 
night, if one of you will back me.’’ 

‘‘T am ready,’’— ‘‘So am I,’’ —“ And so am I,”’ cried 
the other three. ‘I should find it impossible to sleep,” 
added the young gentleman. 

‘‘ Well, what shall we do to keep ourselves awake ?”’ 
said the carrier. ‘‘ As there are just four of us, I think 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 257 


a game of cards would be a good thing. It will keep 
us awake, and help the time along too.” 

‘‘T never play cards,’’ answered the gentleman ; ‘‘ so 
I, at least, cannot join you in it.’’ 

“‘ And I know nothing of cards,’”’ added Felix. 

‘‘ What can we do, then?’ said the compass-maker. 
“Sing? That would only attract the robbers, besides 
being stupid. Propose riddles and conundrums? That 
would not last long. Gentlemen, what do you Say to tell- 
ing stories? Amusing or serious, true or false, they will 
keep us awake, and pass the time as well as card-play- 
ne.” 

“I’m agreed, if you will begin,” said the young gen- 
tleman, laughing. ‘‘ You men of business travel into 
all countries, and, no doubt, have plenty of excellent 
stories at your tongues’ ends. Every city has its own 
tales and traditions.” 

““ Ay, ay, we hear a good many things,’’ answered 
the compass-maker. ‘‘ But gentlemen like you study 
books, and read a great many wonderful things. Of 
course you can tell much finer and stranger tales than 
poor journeymen travellers like us. I am very much 
mistaken, if you are not a scholar.” 

‘‘No scholar,”’ replied the gentleman, with a laugh ; 
‘‘merely a student, returning home for my vacation. 
But what we find in our books resembles stories much 
less than what you pick up here and there in your wan- 
derings. So begin, friend, if the others are ready.”’ 

‘‘When a man tells me a good story,’’ said the car- 
rier, ‘‘I prefer it to playing cards. I often travel these 
country roads for leagues and leagues at a snail’s pace, 
listening to some person walking alongside, and telling 
meastory. In bad weather I have taken up many a 
man in my cart, on condition he would tell me some 

22* 


9 


258 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


tale; and I never like a companion so well, I believe, 
as when he can describe his own or other people’s 
adventures for seven or eight hours together.” 

‘So it is with me,’’ said the young goldsmith. ‘I 
could listen to stories all my life, 1 believe; and my 
master in Wurzburg was obliged to forbid me to look 
at books, lest I should read too many novels and neg- 
lect my work. So, give us something good, compass- 
maker, for 1 know you can tell stories from now till 
to-morrow morning before your stock is exhausted.”’ 

The compass-maker took a long draught to improve 
his elocution, and began. 





THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 


In Upper Suabia stand to this day the ruins of a cas- 
tle, once the noblest in all that region. It was called 
Hohenzollern, and rose from the summit of a steep, 
round hill, from whose rugged heights one could see a 
prodigious distance in every direction. Further than 
this castle could be seen from the country round was 
the valiant race of Zollern feared and respected, and 
their names were known and honored in every German 
land. Many centuries ago, I believe when gunpowder 
was just invented, a Zollern lived in this castle, whom 
nature had made a singular being. It could not be 
alleged against him that he oppressed his vassals, or, 
that he had ever lived in feud with his neighbors ; but, 
on account of his gloomy eye, his frowning brows, and 
his monosyllabic, surly manners, no one liked or trusted 
him. Few persons outside the castle walls had ever 
heard him speak civilly, like other men; for, when he 
rode through the valley, and any one met him and said, 


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THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 


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THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 259 


with a respectful bow, ‘‘Good day, your lordship ; this 
is fine weather!’’ or some similar remark, he would 
always retort gruffly, with ‘‘ Stuff and nonsense!” or, 
‘‘T knew that before.’’ And if anything occurred to ex- 
cite his anger, —if a peasant’s cart chanced to stand in 
the road, so as to prevent his horse from passing as 
quickly as he liked, — his fury would break forth in a 
volley of frightful oaths and curses. In all the region 
round about, he went among the people by the name 
of ‘‘ Thunder-storm Von Zollern.”’ ‘ 

Thunder-storm Von Zollern had a wife, who was his 
direct opposite, and as mild and gentle as a summer’s 
day. Often had persons, who had been offended by her 
husband’s ferocity, been reconciled to him again through 
her soft glances and gracious words. Her tenderness 
to the poor was proverbial, and she never hesitated, | 
in the fiercest heats of summer or the wildest winter 
snows, to leave the rugged hill, and visit poor peasants 
and sick children in the valley. When the count met 
her on such errands of mercy, he would say, sulkily: 
‘Stuff and nonsense !’”’ and ride on. 

These savage manners would have intimidated or de- 
terred most women. One would have thought: ‘‘ What 
business is it of mine to attend to these poor people, 
when my husband considers it stupid nonsense ?”’ 
Another, perhaps, through pride or indignation, would 
have cooled in her love towards so savage a husband. 
But not so Lady Hedwig Von Zollern. She loved him 
as deeply as ever, sought to smooth the wrinkles of his 
dark brow with her soft, white hand, and adored him 
with all the strength of her nature. When, after the 
lapse of a year, Heaven sent them a little heir, she 
loved her husband not the less, but lavished on her dar- 
ling offspring all the tender duties of a mother. Three 


260 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


years passed, during which time the Count Von Zollern 
saw his son only on Sundays after dinner, when he was 
brought to him by the nurse. He looked at him on 
these occasions perfectly unmoved, growled something 
in his beard, and gave him back to his nurse. When 
the little fellow first lisped ‘‘father,’’ the count gave 
the nurse a florin. Towards the child his expression 
remained unaltered. 

On his third birthday the count caused his son to be 
breeched for the first time, and dressed him richly in 
velvet and silk. He then gave orders for his own 
horse and another to be made ready, and, taking his 
little son in his arm, descended the winding stairs with 
ringing spurs. Lady Hedwig was aghast at the sight. 
She was accustomed to make no such inquiry as 
‘Whither out?’’ or ‘When home ?”’ on his leaving the 
castle ; but anxiety for her child now opened her lips. 
“Are you going fora ride, count?’’ said she. He made 
no answer. ‘‘ Where are you taking the child?”’ she 
continued ; ‘‘ Euno is to take a walk with me.”’ 

‘“‘T knew that before,’’? answered Thunder-storm 
Von Zollern, without stopping. When he reached the 
court-yard, he took his little son by one foot, raised 
him into the saddle, and, binding him firmly on with 
his handkerchief, mounted his own steed, and trotted 
out of the gate, holding the bridle of Euno’s horse in 
his hand. The little fellow seemed at first to consider 
it great fun. He clapped his hands, and shook his 
horse’s mane to make him go faster, so that the count 
was greatly pleased, and said, several times, he was a 
plucky lad. 

But when they reached the plain, and the count 
changed his pace to a canter, the little boy lost heart. 
He begged his father, very imploringly, to ride slower ; 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 261 


but, as their speed increased, and the high wind almost 
deprived little Euno of breath, he began to cry, at first 
silently, but, growing rapidly more terrified, finally 
burst out with all the strength of his lungs. 

‘“‘T knew so. Stuff and nonsense!’ began his father. 
“The young one howls on his first ride. Hush! or 

” Just as he was about to reissure his son 
with a curse, his horse reared, and the bridle of the other 
steed slipped from his hand. He strove frantically to 
reduce his horse to subjection, and succeeding at last, 
and looking round with anguish to find his son, saw 
the horse running up the mountain, his saddle empty, 
and the tiny rider nowhere to be seen. 

Stern and calm as the Count Von Zollern usually 
was, this was a moment of torture to his heart. He 
looked for nothing but to see his son lying shattered in 
the road, and he tore his beard and howled in agony. 
He could find no trace of his child far as he retraced 
his course; and he already felt a foreboding that the 
maddened horse must have hurled him into a lake 
which edged the road, when he suddenly heard behind 
him a childish voice calling him by name, and, turning 
about like lightning — look! an old woman sat under a 
tree not far from the path, fondling the infant on her 
knees. 

‘‘How came you by the child, old witch?” cried 
the count in greatanger. Bring him to me instantly!” 

‘““ Not so fast, not so fast, excellency!”’ laughed the 
old creature. ‘How came I by the child, say you? 
Why, his horse ran by here, and he was hanging to the 
saddle by one foot with his hair trailing on the ground, 
so I caught him in my apron.” 

‘“‘] knew it !’’ snarled the Count Von Zollern. ‘Give 
him to me. I cannot dismount, for my horse is wild, 
and might strike him.”’ 


262 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘‘Give me a silver florin first,’? said the woman, in a 
humble tone. 

“Stuff and nonsense!” cried the count, throwing a 
few pennies under the tree. 

‘““No; I must have a florin! ”’ she insisted. 

“A florin! you don’t deserve it!’’ yelled the count. 
“Quick with the child here, or I set my dogs on 
you!”’ 

““So! I don’t deserve a florin!’’ answered the hag, 
with a scornful laugh. ‘Ha! See, before many years, 
how much of your inheritance sells for a silver florin. 
Here, take back your pennies.’”’ Saying this, she 
threw the bits of copper to the count with so much 
skill that each fell exactly into the small leathern purse 
which he still held in his hand. 

The count was silent for several minutes with aston- 
ishment at her dexterity ; but at length his amazement 
changed to wrath. He seized his gun, and, cocking it, 
took aim at the old woman. She fondled and kissed 
the little count with great composure, holding him 
carefully before her, so that the bullet must have 
first struck him. ‘‘ You are a good, pious child,’’ said 
she ; ‘‘remain so, and you will never sufler.’? Then set- 
ting him down, she shook her finger at the count: 
“ Zollern, Zollern, you owe me a silver florin!’’ she 
shrieked, and, untroubled by his curses, she crept into 
the wood, leaning for support on her staff. Conrad, 
the count’s squire, dismounted, trembling, from his 
horse, and, placing the little noble on his saddle, 
mounted behind him, and rode after his master to the 
castle. 

This was the first and only time that Thunder-storm 
Von Zollern ever took his son to ride. Because he had 
wept and cried when the horse broke into a trot, he 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 263 


held him to be a cowardly lad, of whom no good could be 
expected. He never saw him but with displeasure, and 
as often as the boy, who loved his father from his heart, 
came fondly to his knees, he would push him away, 
crying: ‘‘I knew so! Stuff and nonsense!’ Lady 
Hedwig had borne submissively all her husband’s ill- 
humor and ferocity, but this cruel treatment of her 
innocent child undermined her health. She sickened 
from terror several times when the gloomy count pun- 
ished the boy severely for some trifling fault, and died 
at last, in the prime of life, mourned by her household 
and the whole neighborhood, and most deeply of all by 
her infant son. 

From this time the count’s feelings became more and 
more alienated from his little heir. Me committed him 
to the nurse and the chaplain to be brought up; and 
for the future saw little of him, especially after marrying 
a rich lady, shortly subsequent to the countess’ death, 
who, after the lapse of a year, presented him with twins. 

Euno’s favorite walk was to the old woman who had 
saved his life. She told him many anecdotes of his 
dead mother, and how much kindness she had always 
received from her. The maids and grooms warned him 
frequently against going so often to see the old woman 
of Feldheim, as they called her, as she was neither more 
nor less than a witch; but the child felt no fears, for 
the chaplain told him that witches had never existed ; 
and that the traditions of old women being able to 
bewitch people, and to ride on broomsticks through 
the air to the Brocken, were totally false. To be sure, he 
saw several things about the beldame which he could not 
quite comprehend. Her adroitness with the three pen- 
nies, which she had thrown so skilfully into his father’s 
purse, he still remembered perfectly ; and she under- 


264 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


stood the composition of all kinds of draughts and oint- 
ments with which to heal the illnesses of men and cat- 
tle ; but he was certain there was no truth in the story 
people told that she had a weather-pan, as they called 
it, which, when hung over her fire, brought on frightful 
thunder-storms. She taught the little count many 
things very useful to him; for example, several cures 
for horse-maladies, a remedy against hydrophobia, an 
irresistible bait for fish, and many other valuable bits 
of information. This old creature was soon his only 
intimate, for his nurse died, and his stepmother never 
concerned herself about him. 

As his brothers grew up, Euno led a more unhappy 
life than before, for they had the good fortune not to 
fall from the horse on their first ride with their father ; 
and Thunder-storm Von Zollern held them therefore for 
intelligent lads, loved them exclusively, and rode every 
day with them, teaching them everything he knew him- 
self. They learned little that was good, however. 
Their father could neither read nor write, and he was 
resolved that his precious sons should not waste their 
time over such useless studies; and, when only ten years 
old, they could curse and swear as frightfully as their 
father, pick a quarrel with any one they saw fit, and 
fight with each other as savagely as cat and dog, becom- 
ing friends again only when they waged war with Euno. 

Their mother was perfectly indifferent to this, for she 
considered the children’s quarrelling to be wholesome 
and useful ; but, on a servant’s mentioning it one day to 
the old count, though he answered, ‘‘ I knew it before ; 
stuff and nonsense !”’ he resolved to devise some means 
to prevent his sons from striking each other dead in their 
furious quarrels. The threat of the old woman of 
Feldheim, whom he firmly believed to be a desperate 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 265 


witch, had sunk deep into his mind. One day he was 
hunting in the neighborhood of his castle, when two 
mountains, which seemed to have been expressly made 
for castles, attracted his attention, and he resolved to 
build on them. On one he built the castle of Rogues- 
burg, so named after the smaller of the two twins, who 
had received from his father the title of ‘little rogue,’ 
from the variety of malicious tricks he was incessantly 
playing. The other he at first designed to name Silver- 
florinburg, in ridicule of the old witch; but he settled 
at length on the more concise title of Silverburg ; and 
by these names the two mountains go to the present 
day ; and whoever travels among the mountains, can 
have them pointed out to him without difficulty. 

Thunder-storm Von Zollern had intended to bequeath 
the castle of Roguesburg to the older twin, and Silver- 
burg to the younger ; but his wife gave him no rest till 
he had changed his plans. ‘‘ That stupid blockhead 
Eano,”’ so she called the poor boy, “ that blockhead 
Euno is rich enough by what he inherits from his 
mother ; and shall he have this costly, beautiful Zollern 
too? Shall my sons inherit nothing but a couple of 
castles with no appurtenances but useless forests ? ”’ 

In vain did the count represent to her that it would 
be doing great injustice to rob Euno of his birthright ; 
she teased him so much, that Thunder-storm, usually 
immovable, yielded for the sake of peace, and left by his 
will Roguesburg to the little rogue, Zollern to the 
elder of the twins, and Silverburg and the. village of 
Balingen to Euno. Soon after thus devising his estate, 
he was prostrated by a dangerous illness. To the phy- 
sician, who told him he was about to die, he said, “I 
knew it before.’”” To the chaplain, who urged him to 
prepare himself for a future world, his answer was, 

23 


266 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘Stuff and nonsense!’’ and he continued to curse and 
swear till he died. 

Scarcely was his body in the ground, when the count- 
ess came with the will in her hand, and said scornfully 
to Euno, her step-son, that he could now give a proof 
of his erudition by reading with his own eyes the con- 
tents of the will, namely, that he had no further claim 
to Zollern; and she and her sons congratulated them- 
selves over the beautiful property and the two castles 
out of which they had defrauded the first-born. 

Euno submitted without a murmur, but took leave 
with tears of the castle in which he had been born, 
under which his mother lay buried, and near to which 
his only friend, the woman of Feldheim, had her cottage. 
The castle of Silverburg was a handsome, stately struc- 
ture, but he found it lonely and desolate, and soon grew 
ill from home-sickness for Hohenzollern. 

The countess, and the two brothers now eighteen 
years old, were sitting one evening on the balcony, and 
looking down the mountain-side, when their eyes rested 
on a knight, approaching on horseback, followed by a 
sumptuous litter and several attendants. They made 
numberless surmises as to who it could be, and ‘‘ Little 
Rogue ”’ exclaimed at last: 

“By Jove, it’s no other than our most honorable 
brother of Silverburg ! ”’ 

‘‘Who? that stupid Euno?’’ said the countess, sur- 
prised. ‘‘No doubt he means to do us the honor to 
invite us to visit him, and has brought that handsome 
litter to carry me to Silverburg. Come, so much polite- 
ness I never expected from the blockhead. One civility 
deserves another ; so let us go down to the castle gate 
to receive him. Put on your most friendly looks, sons, 
and perhaps he will give you something from Silver- 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 267 


burg; you a horse, perhaps, and the other a coat of 
armor. I have been wishing a great while for his moth- 
er’s jewelry.” 

‘“‘T want no presents from Euno,’’ answered Wolf, 
‘‘and I will put on no friendly looks. As far as I am 
concerned, he may follow my excellent progenitor to 
the grave as soon as he likes ; for then we should inherit 
Silverburg, and we would let you have the jewels, 
mother, cheap.” 

‘So, you profligate,’”’ answered his mother angrily, 
‘‘must I buy the jewels of you? Is this your gratitude 
for my having secured Zollern for you? Rogue, you 
will give me the jewels for nothing, I am sure?”’ 

‘‘Only death can be had for nothing, mother!’’ an- 
swered her son, laughing; ‘‘and if it is true that his 
mother’s jewels are worth as much as many a castle, as 
folks say they are, we are not such fools as to hang 
them round your neck for nothing. As soon as Euno 
dies, we will ride over there and divide these jewels, 
and I shall sell my share for what they will bring. If 
you offer more than the Jews, mother dear, you shall 
have them, I promise you.” 

They had by this time reached the castle gate, and it 
was with difficulty that madam the countess repressed 
her anger sufficiently to receive Count Euno civilly, as 
he rode over the drawbridge. Seeing his step-mother 
and his brothers, he checked his steed, and, dismount- 
ing, greeted them courteously. For though they had 
done him great wrong, yet he kept it in mind that the 
two young men were his brothers, and that his father 
had once loved this wicked woman. 

‘‘Now, this is delightful, that the oldest son should 
come to see us in this way,” said the countess, with a 
heavenly smile and melodious voice. ‘‘How do you 


? 


*., 


268 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


enjoy Silverburg? Do you grow accustomed to the 
place? I see you have a litter, too! Ay, and how 
handsome it is!) An empress need not be ashamed of 


_it! I suppose it will not be long before you have a 


countess to ride about the country in it?” 

“T have not yet thought of that matter, madam,” 
answered Kuno; ‘‘ for which reason I desire to take a 
friend to my house, and have therefore brought hither 
this litter.”’ 

‘‘Indeed, sir, you are extremely polite,’”’ interrupted 
the lady, with a bow. 

‘‘You know he finds horseback riding difficult at his 
years,’’ continued Euno calmly ; ‘‘I refer, of course, to 
Father Joseph, your chaplain. I desire to take him 
with me for a while, as he was my tutor in my boyhood, 
you know, madam, and he agreed to pay me a visit 
when I left Zollern. I design also taking with me the 
old woman of Feldheim. She saved my life once, when 
I rode out for the first time with my lamented father. 
I have room enough for her in Silverburg, and there she 
shall breathe her last.’’ 

Saying this, he passed through the court-yard in 
search of the reverend chaplain. 

Wolf bit his lips with rage, and his mother the count- 
ess turned yellow with fury, but Rogue burst into a fit 
of laughter. ‘‘ What will you give me for the horse he 
is going to present me with?” said he. ‘‘ Brother Wolf, 
give me your coat of mail in exchange? Ila, ha, ha! 
So he means to take the chaplain and the old witch with 
him, does he? A lovely couple, upon my word! In 
the forenoons he can study Greek with the reverend, 
and take lessons in witchcraft in the afternoons of the old 
woman! What will stupid Euno do next, I wonder?” 

‘‘He is a very vulgar fellow,’’ answered the count- 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 269 


ess, ‘‘and you ought not to laugh, Rogue. It is a dis- 
grace to the whole family, and we shall blush to look 
our neighbors in the face when it becomes known that 
Count Von Zollern has carried that old witch to his cas- 
tle, and lets her live there. He got his low tastes from 
his mother, who had the same vulgar fondness for sick 
beggars and such base animals. OQ, his father would 
turn in his coffin, if he knew this! ”’ 

““Yes,’’ added Rogue, ‘father would say in the 
tomb, ‘I knew so; stuff and nonsense!’ ”’ 

‘‘Upon my word! here he comes with the old man, 
and not ashamed to walk with him arm-in-arm!”’ cried 
the countess with horror. ‘‘Come away, my sons; I 
will see him no more.”’ 

They disappeared, and Euno accompanied his old 
teacher to the drawbridge, and helped him into the litter 
with his own hands. At the foot of the mountain, he 
stopped before the cottage of the woman of Feldheim, 
and found her ready and waiting for his arrival. 

The result was otherwise than the countess’ wicked 
imagination had anticipated. No one in the neighbor- 
hood felt the slightest surprise at what Count Euno had 
done. On the contrary, they considered it a praisewor- 
thy action in him to desire to render happy the old age 
of the venerable woman, and they praised him as a 
pious Christian for having taken Father Joseph into his 
castle. The only persons incensed with him were his 
brothers and the countess; but solely to their own 
disgrace ; for the whole neighborhood were indignant 
at the conduct of the unnatural brothers, and in retri- 
bution the rumor was circulated that they lived on ill 
terms with their mother, and were incessantly wran- 
gling and injuring each other. 

Count Euno of Zollern-Silverburg made many efforts 

23* 


@ 


270 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


to effect a reconciliation between his brothers and him- 
self; for he found it insupportable to have them riding 
by his castle, and never addressing or visiting him; or 
meeting him often in the wood or plain, and greeting 
him distantly, like a total stranger. But all his at- 
tempts were fruitless, and responded to only by addi- 
tional insults. One day, a method suggested itself by 
which he might possibly win their regard, knowing, as 
he did, their natural selfishness and greed. A pond 
lay between, and almost equi-distant from the three 
castles, and just within the borders of Euno’s domains. 
It was peopled by the finest carps and pike in the 
whole neighborhood, and the brothers, who loved to 
fish, found it an intense source of regret that their 
father had forgotten to include this pond within their 
limits. They were too haughty to fish there without 
their brother’s knowledge, and yet unwilling, by civili- 
ties, to obtain his consent. Count Euno knew, how- 
ever, that this pond lay near their hearts, and one 
day he invited them to meet him there. 

It was a charming spring morning when the three 
brothers, almost at the same moment, reached the pond 
from their respective castles. 

“Well,” cried Rogue, “this is remarkable! I left 
Roguesburg as the clock struck seven.” 

“‘ And I Zollern ’’? — “ and I Silverburg ’’ — answered 
his two brothers. 

“This pond must be exactly in the centre,’”’ con- 
tinued Rogue ; ‘‘it is a beautiful bit of water.’ 

‘Yes, and I have invited you here for that very rea- 
son. I know that both of you are fond of fishing, and 
though I am inclined sometimes to throw a fly myself, 
yet the pond has fish enough to supply us all, and there 
is room enough on its shores even if we all fish at the 


i. 


2 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 271 


same time. So I am willing that from this day the 
water shall be common property, and each of you shall 
have equal rights in it with myself.” 

‘‘Tfollo! our noble brother is uncommonly gracious 
to-day,’”’ said Rogue, with a scornful laugh. ‘‘ He has 
positively given us a few hogsheads of water and a 
couple of hundred fish! Bah! what must we give in 
return? For only death is gratis in this world.” 

“You shall have it for nothing,” said Euno. ‘ Ah! 
I only wish to see and speak with you sometimes at this 
pond. Are we not all sons of one father?” 

‘“No!” answered Rogue. ‘‘This arrangement is 
absurd, for nothing is more foolish than to fish in com- 
pany. Each one frightens away the others’ fish. But 
divide the days: Monday and Thursday you, Euno; 
Tuesday and Friday Wolf; and I Wednesday and Sat- 
urday, and it will suit us exactly.” 

‘‘T will have nothing of the sort,’’ cried the savage 
Wolf; ‘‘I will take no present, and will share with no 
one. You are right, Euno, to offer us this pond, for we 
have properly all three an equal right init. But let us 
throw dice to decide who shall own it for the future. 
If I am more lucky than you, and win it, you may 
always ask my permission to fish here.” 

‘‘T never throw dice,’”’ answered Euno, mourning over 
the obduracy of his brothers. 

“‘ Of course not,” sneered Rogue. ‘“‘ He is very reli- 
gious, this noble brother of ours, and considers dice- 
playing a mortal sin. But I propose another plan, at 
which the most God-fearing monk could have no scru- 
ples. Let us get our fishing-tackle out, and he who has 
taken the most fish when the clock at Zollern strikes 
twelve shall own the pond.”’ 

“TI ama fool indeed,’’ said Euno, “to risk on a wager 


272 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


that which belongs to me already. But, to prove to 
you that I was sincere in my proposal of division, I 
will bring my fishing-tackle here and make the trial.” 

They rode away, each to his castle. The twins sent 
out their servants in all haste to turn over every stone 
to find bait. Euno, however, took his ordinary tackle, 
and the bait which the woman of Feldheim had taught 
him to prepare, and was the first to appear at the place 
of meeting. When the twins arrived he permitted them 
to select the most convenient places, and then threw in. 
his line. It seemed as if the fish recognized him as 
their master. The carp and pike rushed and played’ 
round his hook in shoals. The oldest and biggest pushed 
the smaller ones away, and every moment he drew one 
out ; and when he threw his line again into the water 
twenty or thirty opened their mouths above the surface 
to snap at the hook. Two hours had not passed before 
the ground around him was covered with the finest fish. 
He stopped fishing, and went to his brothers to see 
what progress they had made. Rogue had caught two 
wretched cuttle-fish and a carp; Wolf, three barbel and 
two little groundlings ; and both were gazing disconso- 
lately into the pond, for from where they stood they 
could see plainly the shoals of fish which Euno had 
taken. When Euno came up to Wolf, the latter sprang 
up in a fury, and, tearing off the line, broke his pole in 
pieces, and threw the whole into the water. ‘I wish 
it was a thousand hooks instead of one which I throw 
in, and one of your creatures here would bite at every 
one of them!” he shouted. ‘‘ But it can never have 
happened thus by fair means; it is jugglery and witch- 
craft, or how, blockhead Euno, could you catch more 
fish in an hour than I can in a year?” 

“Ay, ay, I remember now,” said Rogue; ‘‘he has 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 273 


learned to fish of the woman of Feldheim, that horrible 
witch, and we were fools to fish with him. He will be 
a wizard himself before long.’ 

‘“You wicked men,’’ answered Euno, in anger; ‘‘I 
have had abundant time in this short morning to see 
your greediness, your impudence, and your ferocity. 
Leave this place and never return to it; and, believe 
me, it were better for your souls if you were half as 
pious and good as the woman you call a witch.” 

‘‘No, on second thoughts, she can’t be a real witch,”’ 
said Rogue, laughing scornfully. ‘‘ Witches can fore- 
tell future events ; but this woman of Feldheim can no 
more foretell events than a goose can turn into a swan. 
She told father that a good part of his property would 
be worth less than a silver florin. She meant, of course, 
he would lose it all ; and yet, when he died, every acre 
one can see from the turrets of Zollern belonged to him. 
Bah! the old woman of Feldheim is nothing but a silly 
old idiot, and you are a stupid blockhead, Euno! ”’ 

Saying this, Rogue retired in a great hurry, for he 
feared his brother’s strong arm, and Wolf followed him, 
yelling all the curses which he had learned from his 
father. 

Euno returned to his castle, grieved to the depths of 
his soul, for he saw that his brothers and himself would 
never more be friends. He took their brutal language 
so much to heart that the next day he was ill, and only 
the pious consolations of Father Joseph, and the effica- 
cious liquids of the old woman of Feldheim saved him 
from death. 

When the two brothers heard that Euno was lying ill 
at home, they held at once a great feast; and, flushed 
with wine, promised each other that when blockhead 
Euno should die, he who learned it first would fire all 


274 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


his cannon to communicate the fact to the other, and he 
who first fired should be entitled to carry off the best 
cask of wine in Euno’s cellar. Wolf, from this time, 
had one of his servants always waiting in the neighbor- 
hood of Castle Silverburg; and Rogue bribed one of 
Euno’s servants, with large sums of money, to let him 
know the instant his master lay at the point of death. 

This servant however was more attached to his pious 
and gentle master than to the wicked Count of Rogues- 
burg; he inquired therefore one evening, secretly, of the 
old woman of Feldheim, as to his master’s condition ; 
and, on her telling him that he was nearly recovered, he 
informed her of the agreement of the two brothers, and 
that they intended to discharge cannon in celebration 
of Count Euno’s death. The old lady was excessively 
angry. She speedily reported it to the count; and on 
his refusing to believe in such utter heartlessness, ad- 
vised him to put the matter to the proof, and cause it 
to be given out that he was dead; whereupon he would 
soon hear whether they fired their cannon or not. 

The count summoned the servant whom his brother 
had bribed, questioned him further, and ordered him to 
ride to Roguesburg and announce his immediate death. 

While the groom was riding rapidly down the moun- 
tain-side, he was stopped by the servant of Count Wolf, 
who inquired why he was riding so hastily. ‘ Ah!” 
said the other, ‘‘ my poor master will never live through 
the night; they have all given him over.” 

“So, it’s come at last!” cried the first; and, run- 
ning to his horse, he mounted, and galloped so rapidly 
to Zollern that his horse fell at the gate, and he himself 
could only gasp the words, ‘‘ Count Euno is dying,”’ be- 
fore he dropped senseless. The cannon of Hohenzol- 
lern at once thundered forth the information, and Count 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 276 


Wolf and his mother congratulated each other over the 
cask of wine, the inheritance, the pond, the jewels, and 
the glorious echo of the cannon. But what they took 
for an echo were the cannon of Roguesburg, and Wolf 
said, with a laugh, to his mother: ‘‘So Rogue has had 
his spies out as well as myself, and we shall have to 
divide the wine like the rest of the inheritance.” He 
then mounted his horse, for he suspected his brother 
Rogue might attempt to get before him, and perhaps 
take away some of the treasures of the deceased before 
he came. 

The two brothers encountered one another at the fish- 
pond, and each blushed as he met the other’s gaze, for 
each had intended to arrive at Silverburg first. They 
spoke not a syllable of Euno as they rode on, but dis- 
cussed in a friendly way how the property should be 
divided, and which should take Silverburg. But, as 
they crossed the drawbridge, and rode into the court, 
whom should they see but their brother Euno looking 
from the window, to all appearance perfectly well! The 
brothers were greatly startled, and, taking him for a 
spectre, crossed themselves devoutly. But, soon seeing 
that he was good flesh and blood, Wolf cried, ‘‘ Hol- 
lo! this is strange. Stuff and nonsense! I thought 
you were dead.” 

‘Well, better luck next time!” said Rogue, looking 
up at Euno with poisonous glances. 

Euno answered in a voice of thunder: ‘‘ From this 
hour all bonds of relationship are broken between us. 
I well understood your salvoes of artillery ; but mark, 
T have also five field-pieces in the court, and have loaded 
them to the muzzle in your honor. Away with you 
beyond the range of my bullets, or you shall be taught 
how we aim in Silverburg!”’ 


276 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


The twins gave no time for this warning to be re- 
_ peated, for they saw from his manner that he was thor- 
oughly in earnest; so, putting spurs to their steeds, 
they hurried down the mountain, while their brother 
sent a cannon-ball after them so close to their heads that 
both made a courteous bow to avoid it. His object, 
however, was more to terrify than to injure them. 

‘‘Why did you fire your cannon?” asked Rogue, 
angrily. ‘‘Ionly fired because I heard yours, you fool !”’ 

‘‘On the contrary, ask mother how it was,’’ answered 
Wolf. ‘It was you who fired first, and you have 
brought this disgrace on us, you puppy! ”’ 

Rogue was not sparing of epithets; and when they 
reached the fish-pond, they mutually lavished on each 
other the curses they had inherited from old ‘‘ Thun- 
der-storm Von Zollern,’’ and parted in hate and enmity. 

The next day Euno made his will, and the woman of 
Feldheim said to Father Joseph: ‘I would wager 
something he speaks of that cannon-firing as_ it 
deserves.”? But, spite of her curiosity, the count 
refused to tell her what he had written, and she never 
learned ; for, a year afterwards, the good lady departed, 
her salves and medicines rendering her no service ; 
she died of a trifling illness, but in the ninety-eighth 
year of her age; a period of life at which a strong 
and healthy man need not be ashamed to render up 
the ghost. Count Euno caused her obsequies to be 
celebrated as if she had been his own mother, and his 
castle became more and more lonesome and distasteful 
to him, especially as Father Joseph soon after followed 
the old lady of Feldheim to the grave. 

But this loneliness afflicted him not much longer. 
Count Euno died in his eight and twentieth year, sus- 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 277 


pected by many to have been poisoned through the 
instrumentality of Rogue. 

However this may have been, not many hours elapsed 
after his death, before the thunder of the cannon again 
echoed through the valley ; and in Zollern and Rogues- 
burg five and twenty salvoes of artillery were let off. 

‘‘This time, he is really dead, and there is no mistake 
about it,’’ said Rogue, when they met on their way to 
Silverburg. 

“ Yes,’’ answered Wolf, ‘‘and if he rises again and 
comes to the window, as he did before, I have a gun 
here which shall make him civil, I promise you.” 

As they rode up to Silverburg, they were joined by a 
knight and his suite, whom they did not recognize. 
They supposed him to be some friend of their brother, 
who had come to attend his funeral. They, therefore, 
assumed an air of intense grief, and, praising the char- 
acter of the deceased, mourned his early death ; while 
Rogue even succeeded in shedding a few crocodile- 
tears over their bereavement. The knight made no reply 
to these eulogies, but rode at their side up the mountain, 
silent and impassive. ‘‘So, now let us make ourselves 
comfortable,’ cried Wolf, dismounting. ‘‘ Butler, some 
of your best wine here!” 

They passed up the winding stairs, and entered the 
hall. Thither the silent horseman followed them, and, 
after the twins had seated themselves gayly at the table, 
he drew from his doublet a piece of silver, and, throw- 
ing it on the stone table, where it rolled and tinkled, 
said: ‘‘There is your inheritance, gentlemen, exactly 
one silver florin.’’ The two brothers looked at the 
knight with surprise, and inquired with a sneer what 
he meant. 

The knight drew forth a sheet of parchment, with 

24 


278 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


numerous seals; in it the ‘‘blockhead’’ Euno had recited 
all the wrongs which his brothers had done him during 
his life, and at the end of it he had ordered and 
directed that his whole property, goods and chattels, 
should, in case of his death, be sold to Wurtemburg, 
and for the price of —a paltry silver florin! His 
mother’s jewels, he directed, should be devoted to the 
erection of a house for the poor in the village of 
Balingen ! 

The brothers’ faces were pictures of astonishment, 
but their laughter suddenly ceased, and they bit their 
lips in fury at their inability to resist the city of Wur- 
temburg. And thus they had forfeited lands, forests, 
fields, the village of Balingen, and even the fish-pond, 
and inherited nothing but a contemptible florin! This, 
Wolf thrust insolently into his doublet, and, dashing his 
cap on his head, left the castle without a word of salu- 
tation to the commissioner from Wurtemburg, and, 
throwing himself on his horse, rode home to Zollern. 

Tormented by the complaints of his mother that they 
had forfeited estates and jewels at once, he rode over 
the next morning to Rogue, at Roguesburg. ‘‘ Shall we 
spend our inheritance in gambling or drinking ?”’ he 
inquired. 

‘Drinking is the best,” said Rogue, ‘“ for then we 
both get the benefit of it. Let us ride to Balingen, and 
show ourselves to the rabble, to prove our indifference 
to the loss of their dirty village.’’ 

‘‘ And they sell red wine there, at the Lamb, fit for 
an emperor,’’ added Wolf. 

So they rode to Balingen, and, dismounting at the 
Lamb, demanded a measure of red wine, and continued 
to drink till their florin was fully due. Wolf then rose, 
and drawing out the silver coin, threw it on the table 


THE PROPHECY OF THE SILVER FLORIN. 279 


and said, ‘“‘There is a florin for your reckoning, 
landlord.” 

The landlord took up the florin, and, turning it over 
in his hand, said with a laugh: ‘‘ Yes, gentlemen, 
very true ; but yesterday evening a messenger came from 

Stuttgart, and this morning it has been published 
here, in the name of the city of Wurtemburg, to whom 
this village belongs now, that these are declared un- 
current ; so you must give me other money.”’ 

The two brothers looked at each other with pal- 
lid faces. ‘‘ Pay, Wolf,’ said one. ‘‘ Have you no 
change?’’ said the other; and, in short, they were 
obliged to owe the money to the landlord. They 
returned home silent and thoughtful. When they 
reached the cross-road, which led on the right to Zol- 
lern, and left to Roguesburg, Rogue said: ‘ Well, 
Wolf, it seems we have inherited actually less than 
nothing, and the wine was abominable besides.”’ 

‘True enough,’’? answered his brother; ‘‘ what the 
old woman of Feldheim foretold has come to pass. 
We have not been able to buy even a measure of wine 
with our inheritance.”’ 

‘*T know it already!” retorted Rogue, sulkily. 

‘« Stuff and nonsense! ”’ said Zollern, and rode to his 
castle, furious against himself and all the world. 





“This is the story of the prophecy of the silver 
florin,”’ said the compass-maker, ‘and there is no 
doubt of its truth. The landlord in Durrwangen, which 
lies not far from the three castles, told it to a friend of 
mine, who frequently travels over the Swabian Alps, 
and who always puts up at that tavern.”’ 

The guests expressed their approval. ‘‘ What things 
one does hear in this world!” cried the carrier. 


280 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘‘Really, I am very glad we did not spend our time 
playing cards, for this is so much better; and I have 
paid so much attention to the story, that I can tell it to 
my comrades to-morrow, without missing a word.” 

‘““A clever story occurred to me, while you were 
telling yours,’’ said the student. 

“©Q, tell it! tell it!’’ cried the compass-maker and 
Felix in one breath. 

‘Very well,’ answered the other; ‘‘it is immaterial 
whether my turn comes now or later; you must under- 
stand that what I am about to tell you actually took 
place.”’ 

He assumed an easy posture, and was on the point 
of beginning his story, when the landlady set her spin- 
ning-wheel aside, and came towards the guests at the 
table. ‘Gentlemen, it is time to go to bed,” said she. 
“Tt has struck nine, and you can have all day 
to-morrow.”’ 

““What! go to bed now!’’ exclaimed the student; 
‘‘my dear madam, set a bottle of wine before us, and 
we will keep you up no longer.” 

“Out of the question,”’ replied she, surlily ; ‘as long 
as the guests remain in the kitchen, the landlady and 
servants never go to bed. In short, gentlemen, be off 
to your rooms. Iam tired, and nobody tipples in my 
house after nine o’clock.”’ 

““ What are you thinking of, landlady?” asked the 
compass-maker in amazement. ‘‘ What objection can 
you have to our sitting here, if you are not kept up by 
us? We are honest people, and shall carry nothing 
away, nor leave your house without paying our bills. 
Such treatment as this I never met with in a tavern in 
all my life.’’ 

The woman’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘Do you 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 281 


think,’”’ said she, ‘that I am going to change all my 
rules for the sake of every fool of a journeyman, or 
every loafer who owes me a dozen kreutzers? 1 tell 
you once for all, Ill do no such thing.” 

The young man was about to make some reply to 
this tirade, when the student gave him a meaning 
glance, and made a sign to the rest. ‘‘ Well,” said he, 
‘“‘if the landlady insists on it, we will go to our rooms. 
Of course you will give us lights to find our way with?” 

“Tt cannot be done,’ replied the woman angrily. 
‘¢The others must find their way in the dark, and this 
bit of candle is big enough for your purposes. I have 
nothing else in the house.”’ 

The young gentleman made no answer, but silently 
took up the candle, and rose from his seat. The others 
followed his example, and the two journeymen took up 
their bundles to carry them to their chamber. They 
then followed the student, who lighted them up stairs. 

When they came to the top, the student requested 
them to walk softly, and, opening his chamber door, 
invited them by a gesture to enter. ‘‘ There can be no 
doubt,”’ said he, ‘‘ that they mean to betray us. Did 
you notice how earnestly she tried to send us to bed, 
and how she deprived us of all means of keeping 
together and remaining awake? She thinks, probably, 
we shall soon go to sleep, and her game will be all the 
easier.” 

‘‘But do you think we cannot escape?” said Felix. 
‘In the wood we might defend ourselves more easily 
than in this room.” 

““The windows are all barred, like those below,” 
said the student, trying in vain to loosen one of the 
iron cross-bars. ‘‘ But one way of escape is left to us, 

24* 


282 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and that is by the front door ; but I do not believe they 
would let us go out.” 

‘“We can but try it,’”’ said the carrier. ‘I will try 
whether I can go out into the court-yard. If it can be 
done, I will come back and show you the way.”’ 

The rest approving of this proposition, the carrier 
slipped off his shoes and crept on tiptoe down stairs. 
His comrades listened in intense anxiety from their 
chamber above. Already had half the flight been de- 
scended without mishap, when, as the carrier turned a 
corner round a pillar, a huge dog suddenly rose on 
his hind legs before him, and, resting his paws on his 
shoulders, showed a double row of long, sharp teeth, 
directly before his eyes. He was afraid either to ad- 
vance or retreat, for, at his slightest movement, the hor- 
rible creature snapped fiercely at his throat. He began, 
therefore, a fearful howling and bellowing, and the 
hostler and the landlady speedily made their appearance 
with lights in their hands. 

‘‘ Where are you going? What do you want?” cried 
the mistress of the house. 

‘‘T want to get something from my cart,’’ answered 
the carrier, trembling for his life, for, as the door opened 
he had caught sight of several dark, suspicious-looking 
men with guns in their hands, sitting in the kitchen. 

“You should have got all you wanted before,”’ said 
the landlady gruffly. ‘‘Grip, come here. Jacob, open 
the front door, and light the gentleman to his cart.”’ 

The dog withdrew his frightful muzzle from the car- 
rier’s face, and lay down again on the stairs; the hostler 
meanwhile had thrown open the door, and held a light 
for the carrier. While thinking what he should select 
from the articles in his cart, he called to mind a pound 
of wax candles which he was to carry to the neighbor- 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 283 


ing city on the following day. ‘‘ That little candle-end 
will hardly last a quarter of an hour,’’ said he to him- 
self, ‘‘and lights we must have.’”’ So, taking a couple 
of wax candles and concealing them in his sleeve, he 
took for the sake of appearance a thick cloak from 
the cart, which he told the groom he wanted to cover 
himself with during the night. 

He returned to the chamber of the student without 
accident. Here he told his comrades of the large dog 
keeping watch on the stairs, of the men of whom he 
had caught a momentary glimpse, and of all the precau- 
tions the robbers had taken to insure success, and ended 
with a sigh, saying, ‘‘ We oe never live through this 
night.” 

‘‘T do not think so,’”’ answered the student. ‘‘ I can- 
not believe these robbers so reckless as to sacrifice the 
lives of four men for the sake of the trifling gain they 
can expect to make out of us. But we had better offer 
no resistance I think. I, for my part, am willing to 
abandon all I have. My horse is already in their 
hands; it cost me fifty ducats only four weeks ago; 
and my purse and clothes I will surrender willingly, for 
I confess I value my life more than all these put to- 
gether.” 

‘You have spoken sensibly,”’ said the carrier, ‘‘as 
far as you yourself are concerned, for such things as you 
can lose can put you to little inconvenience. But I am 
the carrier from Aschaffenburg, and have all sorts of 
valuable articles in my cart, to say nothing of two fine 
horses in the stable here, which are all I own in the 
world.” 

‘“‘T hardly believe they will do you any injury,”’ inter- 
posed the compass-maker. ‘‘ The robbery of a carrier 
would make too great an excitement through the coun- 


284 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


try. Iam of the opinion of this gentleman. I would 
rather surrender everything I have in the world, and 
take an oath to say nothing about it, than venture my 
life against men with pistols and guns in their hands.’ 
In the course of these observations the carrier had 
produced his wax candles, and, lighting one of them, 
set it on the table. ‘‘Then let us trust in God,” said 
he, ‘‘and await what happens. Let us sit down again 
together, and keep ourselves awake by story-telling.” 
‘“‘Good; so we will,’’ answered the student; ‘‘ and, 
as the turn came to me, I will tell you my story now.” 





THE COLD HEART. 


PART FIRST. 


Whoever journeys through Swabia should, on no ac- 
count, neglect to pay a visit to the Black Forest ; not so 
much to see the forest itself, — although such countless 
numbers of vast pines are not to be found in all coun- 
tries, — as to study the inhabitants, between whom and 
the people in the neighborhood there exists a striking 
difference. They are of larger stature than the gener- 
ality of men, with broad shoulders and strong limbs, 
and seem as if the invigorating air, which at morning 
blows through the pine trees, had imparted to them from 
their youth up a freer breath, a clearer eye, and a ruder 
courage, than to the inhabitants of the valleys and the 
plains. And not only in height and bearing, but in 
their habits and manners also, they differ strikingly from 
the people outside. The residents in the Black Forest 
dress themselves with much taste; the men allow the 
beard, which nature has planted on the chin, to grow to 





THE COLD HEART. 285 


its full length, and their black doublets, huge, loose 
trousers, red stockings, and pointed hats encircled by 
a wide flapping brim, give them a peculiar but dignified 
appearance. Their occupation is principally glass- 
making; but they also manufacture ees and carry 
them over half the world. 

On the opposite side of the forest dwell a branch of 
the same people, whose mode of life has given them 
habits and customs differing from those of their glass- 
making brethren. They deal with their forest; they 
fell and hew the pine trees, and float them down the 
Magold to the Neckar, from the Neckar to the Rhine, 
till the people.of the Black Forest and their huge rafts 
are known as far as Holland. They halt at all the cities 
on the streams down which they pass, and wait till men 
come to buy their timbers and boards ; and their strong- 
est and longest timbers they sell to the mynheers to 
build ships with. These men are accustomed to a wild 
and wandering existence ; their chief enjoyment is to 
descend their rivers on their rafts, their sole regret to 
return again to shore. Their dress differs much from 
that of the glass-blowers in the other part of the forest. 
Their doublets are of dark-colored linen, with suspend- 
ers of green material, the width of the hand, crossing 
on their breasts, and their trousers are of black leather, 
from whose pockets project brass foot-rules. But their 
chief pride is in their boots, which are longer than 
those worn anywhere else in the world, for their wide 
legs reach high above the knee, and the wearers can 
walk for hours dry-shod through three feet of water. 

Till within a recent period the dwellers of the forest 
firmly believed in wood-demons, and only very lately 
has this degrading superstition been at all diminished 
in strength. It is a singular fact, moreover, that these 


286 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


demons, who are reputed to dwell in the Black Forest, 
wear the same distinctive garments as the human inhab- 
itants. Thus, it is said that the Glass Manikin, a be- 
nevolent spirit about four feet in height, never appears 
but in a peaked hat with a wide brim, a doublet, trou- 
sers, and red stockings. Hollander Michael, on the 
other hand, who resides on the other side of the forest, 
is described as a huge, broad-shouldered fellow, in the 
dress of a woodman; and several persons who have 
seen him have solemnly declared that their purses were 
not deep enough to buy the calves whose skins would be 
required to make his boots. ‘‘ They would take in a com- 
mon man up to his neck,”’ they asserted, and never would 
confess to the least exaggeration in their statement. 

A young native of the Black Forest was in the habit 
of describing, not long ago, a strange adventure with 
these wood-demons, which I will now tell you. 

There was a certain widow, Mistress Barbara Munk, 
who lived in the Black Forest, whose husband had been 
a charcoal-burner ; and, after his death, she had brought 
up her son, a lad of sixteen years, to the same business. 
Young Peter Munk, a sharp-witted youth, was for a 
time satisfied with his lot, for during his father’s life he 
had never looked at the matter otherwise than as sitting 
the whole week near the roaring kiln, or going down to 
the city, black and dirty, to sell the coal. But a char- 
coal-burner has much leisure for reflection; and when 
Peter sat at his kiln, the waving trees overhead, the pro- 
found silence of the forest, moved his heart to unwonted 
tears and longings. Something, he knew not what, 
inspired him with a mixed feeling of despondency and 
anger. At last, however, he discovered the cause of 
these emotions: it was his station in life. ‘‘ A dirty, 
lonely charcoal-burner!”’ he said to himself. ‘‘It is a 


THE COLD HEART. 287 


miserable life. How respectable are glass-blowers, 
watch-makers, musicians! But when Peter Munk 
makes his appearance, washed and dressed, in his 
father’s best doublet with silver buttons, and his bran- 
new red stockings, and any one comes behind him and 
says, ‘Who can this slim lad be?’ and secretly ad- 
mires his stockings and his graceful walk, when he 
passes me and looks in my face, he is sure to say, ‘ Bah, 
it’s only Peter Munk, the charcoal-burner!’ ”’ 

The woodmen on the other side of the forest were 
also objects of his envy. When these wood-giants came 
over, in their handsome dresses, and carrying on their 
person, in chains, buckles and buttons, half a hundred 
weight of silver, when they stood looking on at the 
dance with straddled legs and grinning faces, with 
their Dutch oaths, and their Cologne pipes a yard in 
length, like distinguished mynheers, Peter would hold 
them up to his imagination as perfect pictures of 
happy men. And when these fortunate beings thrust 
their hands into their pockets, and, pulling out hand- 
fuls of great dollars, squandered instead of a paltry 
sixpence, like Peter, six florins here and ten there, 
Peter’s strength of mind gave way, and he would sneak 
home miserable to his hut. For many a holiday he had 
seen one or another of these ‘‘ wood-masters ”’ play 
away more money in five minutes than poor Peter could 
hope to earn ina year. There were three of these men 
especially of whom he could not determine which to 
admire the most. One of them was a thick, stout man, 
with a red face, who passed for the richest person in 
the neighborhood. They called him fat Ezekiel. He 
made two journeys every year to Amsterdam, and had 
the good fortune to sell his timber invariably so much 
dearer than his rivals that, while the others came home 


288 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


on foot, he always travelled sumptuously on wheels. 
The second was the longest and leanest man in the 
whole forest, and was called ‘Long Slurker.’? His 
extreme impudence was the object of Peter’s especial 
envy ; for, though he contradicted the most respectable 
people, though he took up more room at the tavern 
than four of the stoutest men, — for he either sat with 
both elbows on the table, or stretched out his long, thin 
legs on the bench he was occupying, — yet none ven- 
tured to oppose his selfishness, as he was reputed to be 
possessed of untold gold. The third was a young, 
handsome man and the best dancer in the whole coun- 
try, and was called by his companions, for that reason, 
‘* King Dance.” 

He had been a poor lad in former times, and had 
served his apprenticeship with a master-woodman ; but 
all of a sudden he had become immensely rich, and 
some people said he had found a pot of gold under an 
old pine-tree ; others, that he had fished up with his 
spear from the Rhine, not far from Bingen, a chest of 
gold pieces ; but, however that may have been, he had 
suddenly grown very wealthy, and was treated like a 
prince by young and old. 

Peter Munk’s thoughts often reverted to these three 
men, as he sat alone in the forest. To be sure, all three 
had one great defect, which made them hated by all the 
people, and this was their excessive avarice in dealing 
with debtors and poor men, for generally the people of 
the Black Forest are kind-hearted and generous. But 
everybody knows how it is in these matters; if they 
were hated for their avarice, they were honored for 
their wealth ; for who like them could throw away his 
money as if it fell into his pockets from the trees ? 

‘‘T cannot stand this much longer,” said Peter, one 


THE COLD HEART. 289 


day, sorrowfully ; for the day before had been a holiday, 
and everybody had met at the tavern ; ‘‘if luck does n’t 
come to me soon, I shall do something I shall be sorry 
for. If I were only now as rich and distinguished as 
fat Ezekiel, or as bold and influential as Long Slurker, 
or could toss dollars to the musicians like King Dance! 
Where can that fellow have got his money?’’ He went 
over in his mind every method of earning a fortune he 
could think of; but none suited him. At last occurred 
to his mind the traditions he had heard, of people who 
had been made rich years ago by ‘‘ Hollander Michael ”’ 
and the ‘‘Glass Manikin.”? While his father was alive, 
a good many poor men had been to visit him, and they 
had talked of little else but men of wealth, and how 
they had got their money. In many of these stories 
the glass manikin had played an important part; and, 
as Peter sat pondering, he could almost remember the 
verse of poetry which must be spoken at the great pine 
in the middle of the forest to make the manikin appear. 
It began thus, he was sure : 


‘* Treasurer in the forest green, 
Who so many hundred years hast seen, 
Thine is the land where the pine-trees stand,’? — 





But, rub up his memory as he pleased, he could not 
call to mind another line. He deliberated whether he 
should inquire of some old man what the rest of the 
verse was; but a dislike to betray his thoughts re- 
pressed his impulse, and, besides, he decided that the 
tradition of the glass manikin could not be widely 
known, and very few persons must be acquainted with 
the poetry, for rich men were not numerous in the for- 
est ; and why had not his father and the other poor men 


25 


290 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


tried their fortune? He once led his mother to speak 
of the demon, but she merely told him what he knew 
already, and could only remember the first line of the 
stanza; though at length she recollected, ‘‘that the 
manikin showed himself only to people who had been 
born between eleven and two on Sunday. Peter him- 
self might pass very well as far as that went, if he 
could only recollect the verses, for he had been born on 
that day at twelve o’clock.”’ 

When the charcoal-burner heard this, he was almost 
beside himself with a desire to attempt the adventure. 
It appeared to him amply sufficient to know a part of 
the poetry, and to have been born on Sunday, to induce 
the glass manikin to show himself at once. So one 
day, when he had sold his charcoal, and lighted a new 
kiln, he put on his father’s best doublet and red stock- 
ings, donned his Sunday hat, and, grasping in his hand 
his blackthorn stick, took leave of his mother. 

‘‘T must go to the city on business,’’ said he. ‘‘ We 
draw for the conscription before long, and I must re- 
mind the bailiff once more that you are a widow, and I 
your only son.” 

His mother praised him for his thoughtfulness; but no 
sooner was he out of her sight than he betook himself 
straight to the old pine-tree. It stood on the top of the 
highest elevation in the Black Forest, and not a single 
village, not even a cottage, stood within a radius of two 
leagues around, for the superstitious inhabitants be- 
lieved the neighborhood unsafe. Lofty and valuable as 
were the trees, men cut wood in this locality with great 
reluctance ; for often had the wood-cutters, when work- 
ing in the neighborhood, had their axes fly from the 
handle and sink into their foot, or the trees had fallen 
unexpectedly, and wounged or killed the men at work 


THE COLD HEART. 291 


about their roots. Besides, the finest trees could only 
have been used for firewood, for the raftsmen never 
admitted a tree from this dangerous group among their 
other timber, from respect for the tradition that both 
man and timber would surely be unlucky if one of these 
pine-trees was with them afloat; and hence it came, 
that in the pine group here the trees stood so lofty and 
crowded, that even at mid-day it seemed almost night. 
Peter Munk’s heart was in a fearful state of agitation ; 
for he heard no voice, no footstep but his own, and 
even the birds seemed to avoid this scene of gloom. 
The charcoal-burner had now reached the highest 
point of the pine grove, and took his stand before a tree 
of prodigious girth, which a Dutch shipwright would 
have given many hundred florins for as it stood. 
‘‘Here,’”’ thought he, ‘‘must the treasurer surely 
dwell,’’ and, removing his large hat and making a hum- 
ble reverence to the tree, he cleared his throat, and said, 
in a trembling voice: ‘‘I wish you a pleasant evening, 
Mr. Glass-blower!’’? No answer came, and everything 
was silent as before. ‘‘ Perhaps I must repeat the 
verses,’ thought he; and he muttered, in a low tone: 


‘* Treasurer in the forest green, 
Who so many hundred years hast seen, 
Thine is the land where the pine-trees stand,—”’ 


As he said these words, he saw, to his intense alarm, 
a little singular apparition, peering out from behind the 
vast tree. He saw the glass manikin precisely as 
he had heard him described; the little black doublet, 
the red stockings, the tiny hat, all, even to the pale, 
shrewd, handsome face of which he had heard so much, 
he now believed he had this instant caught a glimpse 


292 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


* of. But, unluckily, rapidly as the manikin had peeped 
out, he had darted back again as rapidly. 

‘“Mr. Glass-blower,”’ cried Peter, after a pause, ‘‘ be 
reasonable, if you please, and don’t take me for a fool. 
Mr. Glass-blower, if you think I didn’t see you, you 
are very much mistaken; for I distinctly saw you peep 
out from behind that tree.”’ Still no answer, though he 
thought occasionally he could distinguish a faint giggle 
behind the trunk. At last his impatience overcame the 
terror which had hitherto restrained him. ‘‘ Wait, you 
little chap !”’ cried he ; ‘‘I’ll catch you in a twinkling !” 
and he sprang, with one bound, behind the tree; but 
no treasurer could he find in the green thicket, and he 
saw nothing but an active little squirrel darting up the 
trunk. 

Peter Munk shook his head. He saw that he had 
succeeded perfectly with the exorcism to a certain 
point, and that perhaps a single rhyme only was want- 
ed to enable him to entice the manikin wholly out. 
He rubbed his ear; he scratched his pate; but all in 
vain. The squirrel took its seat on the lowest branch, 
and seemed to be laughing at him. It dressed its fur, 
whisked its pretty tail, and looked at Peter with its 
cunning eyes, so that at last the lad began to be afraid 
to be alone with the creature ; for now it seemed to him 
the squirrel had a man’s head, and wore a three-cor- 
nered hat ; now again it had on its hind legs red stock- 
ings and black shoes. In short, the merry little animal 
alarmed Peter a good deal, for he could not but think 
there was a great deal of mystery about it. 

Peter left the place much more rapidly than he had 
come to it. The gloomy shades of the pine forest 
seemed to increase in depth, the trees to stand more 
compactly together, and he began to be so much terri- 


THE COLD HEART. 293 


fied that he retreated on the full run; and not till he 
heard in the distance the barking of a dog, and saw the 
smoke of a cottage through the trees, did he become 
more easy and relieved in mind. But as he drew 
nearer, and could distinguish the costume of the people 
in the hut, he found that in his excitement he had taken 
a wrong direction, and, instead of the glass-blowers, 
had come among the raftsmen. The occupants of the 
hut he saw were wood-cutters; they were an aged 
man, his son, the proprietor of the house, and several 
well-grown grand-children. They received Peter, who 
begged lodging for the night, with great hospitality, 
making no inquiry into his name or residence, gave him 
plenty of cider to drink, and, in the evening, sat 
before him a roasted heathcock, the choicest delicacy 
of the Black Forest. 

After supper the mistress of the house and her daugh- 
ters seated themselves with their distaffs round a large 
torch supplied by the children with the finest resin ; the 
grandfather, the guest, and the husband, sat smoking 
and looking at the women; and the boys busied them- 
selves in making wooden spoons and forks. Outside, 
the storm howled and roared through the pines; the 
crash of falling trees was heard at frequent intervals, 
and the whole forest seemed to be breaking over their 
heads. The fearless boys wanted to run out into the 
wood to witness the terrible scene, but their grand- 
father checked them with a stern look and word. ‘I 
recommend no one,” said he, ‘‘to leave the house to- 
night, for by Heaven he will never come back. Hol- 
lander Michael is felling a raft to-night.”’ 

The boys looked at him in amazement; they had 
heard before of Hollander Michael, but they begged 
their grandfather to tell them, once for all, his whole 

25* 


294 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


history. Peter Munk, also, who had heard indistinct 
rumors of Hollander Michael on the other side of the 
forest, chimed in with their entreaties, and inquired of 
the old man who and where he was. 

‘‘He is the lord of this forest,’’ answered the gray- 
beard ; ‘‘ and that at your age you have never yet heard 
about him shows that you do not live nearer than the 
pine grove on the hill yonder, and probably a good way 
further. I will tell you what little I know of Hollander 
Michael and the various traditions concerning him. <A 
century ago, so my grandfather used to say, there were 
no more respectable, honorable people in the whole 
world than ‘the dwellers in the Black Forest. Now, 
since money has grown to be so plenty, men have 
become dishonest and wicked. The young fellows 
dance and revel on Sundays, and swear enough to make 
your blood run cold. It was very different formerly ; 
and, if Hollander Michael were to look into that win- 
dow this moment, I would say, as I have often said 
before, that he is solely to blame for all this corruption. 
There lived a hundred years ago a rich timber-master 
hereabouts, who had many servants. He traded far 
down the Rhine ; and, being a pious man, his business 
prospered. One evening a man came to his door whose 
equal he had never seen before. His dress was that 
of the lads of the Black Forest, but he was a head taller 
than any one else, and no man could have believed that 
such a giant existed. The stranger begged for employ- 
ment with the wood-cutters, and the wood-master, seeing 
his great strength and how much work he could do, 
settled the amount of wages he should pay him, and 
the bargain was struck. Such a workman the master 
had never before had in his employ. ,At felling trees 
he was equal to three men; and when six were drag- 


THE COLD HEART. 295 


ging at one end of a log, he carried the other with- 
out apparent exertion. After felling timber for six 
months he went to his master. ‘‘I have hewed wood 
long enough,”’ said he, ‘‘and would like to see where 
my trees go. What do you say to letting me take down 
your rafts one of these days.”’ 

The wood-master answered: ‘I will not stand in 
your way, Michael, if you wish to see a little of the 
world. To be sure, I need for tree-felling strong, able- 
bodied men like you; but still, your dexterity won’t be 
wasted with my rafts; so, if you wish to go, I agree 
for once.”’ 

So the thing was settled. The raft which he was to 
manage had eight sections, the last one composed of 
the largest ship-timbers. But what happened? The 
evening before he was to start Michael brought down 
to the river eight beams, far longer and bigger than 
any ever seen before, and yet carried so easily on his 
shoulder that all who saw him were aghast. Where 
he had felled them, nobody knows to this day. The 
wood-master’s heart laughed for joy on seeing them, for 
he saw at a glance what a monstrous price they would 
fetch ; and Michael said: ‘‘ These are for me to travel 
on; I should never get along on those wretched little 
joists there.’’ His master, in the height of his grati- 
tude, gave him a handsome pair of river-boots ; but he 
threw them aside, and produced a pair of unheard-of 
dimensions; my grandfather used to say that they 
weighed a hundred pounds, and stood at least five feet 
high. 

The raft set off; and if Michael had hitherto aston- 
ished the wood-cutters, he now filled the raftsmen with 
utter amazement, for, instead of the raft’s floating slowly 
down the stream, as people had expected from the vast 


296 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


size of the timber, no sooner had it reached the Neckar 
than it flew along like an arrow. At every bend in the 
Neckar, where the raftsmen usually had great trouble 
in keeping the raft in the middle and preventing it 
from striking on the gravel or sand, Michael invariably 
sprang into the water and with one shove pushed the 
timber right or left, so that it slipped by without danger ; 
and when he came to a straight part of the river, he ran 
forward on to the front division and, thrusting his huge 
weaver’s beam into the gravel, with one mighty push 
would send the raft along so that shores and trees and 
villages seemed to be all racing in the contrary direc- 
tion. In this way, in half the time they usually required, 
they reached the city of Cologne, where they were wont 
to dispose of their timber ; but here Michael said: ‘‘ You 
are fine merchants, are you not, and understand your 
business! Do you suppose the people of Cologne use 
all the timber which comes from the Black Forest? No, 
they buy it of you for half its value, and sell it in Hol- 
land again at double price. Let us sell the small tim- 
bers here, and go ourselves with the larger ones to 
Holland. Whatever we get bey ud the usual price is 
our own profit.’’ 

Thus spoke the crafty Michiel, and the others as- 
sented at once, some because they were anxious to visit 
Holland, and others for the sake of the expected profit. 
One only of the gang was honest, and warned them 
against exposing their master’s property to danger, or 
cheating him out of the higher price; but the others 
would not listen, and forgot his words, though Hollander 
Michael did not. They descended the Rhine with the 
raft, under Michael’s guidance, and soon arrived at Rot- 
terdam. Here they obtained. fourfold the usual price 
for their goods, and Michael’s huge timbers especially 


THE COLD HEART. 297 


fetched a monstrous sum of money. Seeing so much 
gold within their reach, the Black Foresters lost all self 
control. Michael divided the purchase-money, one- 
fourth to his master and three to the raftsmen, and 
they squandered and gambled it away in‘all sorts of 
debauchery, frequenting the low pot-houses and taverns 
with sailors and other dissipated people; while the 
brave man who had attempted to dissuade them from 
their purpose was sold, it is thought, by Michael to the 
devil, for he was never seen again. From this time 
Holland was a paradise to the lads of the Black Forest, 
and Hollander Michael their king. Their masters heard 
nothing of the proceeding for a long time ; and money, 
swearing, bad manners, drunkenness, and gambling, 
came insensibly from Holland to these once happy 
regions. 

When the story came out at last, Hollander Michael 
was nowhere to be found. But dead he certainly is not; 
for these hundred years past he has been playing his 
pranks in this forest, and they say he has helped a great 
many persons to grow rich, but—at the price of their 
poor souls, and I say no more of that. But this much 
is certain, that on just such stormy nights as this he 
tears down the largest pines in the pine grove yonder 
where no one works; and my father saw him once snap 
off one, four feet in diameter, like areed. These he gives 
to those men who turn aside from virtue and follow him. 
At midnight they carry them down to the river, and he 
steers them down to Holland. But if I were King of 
Holland I would have him blown from the cannon’s 
mouth, for every ship will surely sink which has in her 
one of Hollander Michael’s timbers. This is why we 
hear of so many shipwrecks ; for what else should make 
a handsome, strong ship, as big as a church, sink to 


298 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the bottom of the ocean? I tell you, just so often as 
Hollander Michael fells a pine in the Black Forest, one 
of his old timbers springs out from the bottom of some 
ship; the water of course pours in, and the vessel is 
lost with crew and cargo. 

This is the story of Hollander Michael; and true it 
is that every evil in these woods must be ascribed to 
him. O, he can make a man rich!’ added the old 
grandfather mysteriously ; ‘‘ but not for worlds would 
I take anything from him. I wouldn’t be in the skin 
of Fat Ezekiel or Long Slurker for all the Indies! 
King Dance has sold himself to him, too, or I am much 
mistaken.” 

The storm had gone down while the old man was 
speaking; the girls, trembling with fear, lighted their 
lamps and went away to bed, and the men laid a bag 
of leaves on the stove-bench as a pillow for Peter Munk, 
and bade him good-night. 

Peter had never had such fearful dreams as on this 
night. Now, he imagined that he saw the gigantic 
Hollander Michael tear open the cottage window, and 
hold in with his prodigiously long arm a purse full of 
gold pieces, which he shook together with a sweet 
metallic ring ; now, on the other hand, he thought he 
saw the little, good-natured glass manikin riding round 
the room on a huge green bottle, and he thought 
he could again distinguish the faint giggle he had 
heard in the pine-grove. Soon his left ear caught a 
murmur : : 

‘In Holland is gold, 
In sums untold, 


At a low price sold, 
Gold, gold.’’ 


Then he heard, in his right ear, the song of the treas- 


THE COLD HEART. 299 


urer in the leafy pine forest, and a soft voice whispered : 
“Stupid coal-burner, stupid Peter Munk, cannot find a 
word to rhyme with stand, and yet was born at noon on 
Sunday! Rhyme, stupid Peter, rhyme! ”’ 

He groaned and grunted in his sleep, trying to find a 
rhyme, but as he had never made one in his life, all the 
efforts of his dream were fruitless. Waking with the 
earliest beams of morning, his memory still retained 
the marvels of the previous night, and, sitting near the 
table with folded arms, he pondered over the whispered 
words which still lingered in his ear. ‘‘ Rhyme, stupid 
Peter, rhyme,”’ said he to himself, knocking at his fore- 
head with his finger; but no rhyme came. As he was 
sitting staring at the floor and thinking of a rhyme 
for stand, three lads passed the house in the direction 
of the wood, and one of them sang: 


‘¢ On the mountain I did stand, 

And I gazed across the dell, 

And I saw her wave her hand 
In eternal farewell.’’ 


It went into Peter’s ear like a flash of lightning, and 
starting up hastily, in fear lest he had heard incor- 
rectly, he rushed from the house and seized the singer 
roughly by the arm. ‘‘ Halt, friend!’’ he cried, ‘“‘ what 
was your rhyme to stand? Do me the favor to repeat 
what you sang just now.”’ 

‘* What business is it of yours, man?”’ answered the 
youth, ‘‘I will sing just what I please; and let go my 
arm this moment, or — ”’ 

‘You must and shall tell me what you were singing! ”’ 
shouted Peter, almost crazy with anxiety, and tighten- 
ing his grasp; whereupon, the two others, without an 
instant’s delay, seized him in their powerful grip, and 


300 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


handled him so roughly that he was forced by mere 
pain to release the sleeve of the third, and sank 
exhausted on his knees. ‘‘ There!’’ said they, laugh- 
ing, ‘‘ you ’ve got your gruel ; and remember, you fool, 
never to attack people of our sort again on the high 
road.”’ 

‘‘Alas! I shall be sure to remember,” answered 
Peter, with a deep sigh. ‘‘ But if you beat me for it, 
please tell me distinctly what you were singing.” 

At this they all laughed again, and poked fun at him to 
their heart’s content ; but the singer repeated his song 
at last, and, laughing and singing, the three merry com- 
panions went on their way. 

“Aha! hand,’”’ said battered Peter, rising pain- 

fully from the ground. ‘‘ Siand and hand — of course! 
Now, glass manikin, we will have a word or two 
together.’’ He entered the hut, and, taking his hat and 
staff, bade good-by to the occupants of the cottage, 
and set off on his return to the pine grove. Slowly and 
thoughtfully he trudged along, for he had to compose a 
line for his verse ; at last, however, after he had come 
within the borders of the grove, and the pines grew tall 
and thick, he succeeded in his essay at poetical compo- 
sition, and, in his delight, gave a high leap into the air. 

At this moment a man of gigantic height, dressed 
like a raftsman, and with a staff like a ship’s mast in his 
hand, stepped forth from behind the pines. Peter 
Munk almost dropped on his knees when he saw this 
figure approaching ; for he felt it could be no other than 
Hollander Michael. The spectre preserved a profound 
silence, and Peter gazed at him with eyes of terror. 
He stood at least a head taller than the tallest man Peter 
had ever seen; his face was neither old nor young, but 
full of furrows and wrinkles ; he wore a doublet of dark 


THE COLD HEART. 301 


linen cloth, and the huge boots drawn up over his 
leather breeches Peter recognized at once as those 
described by tradition. 

‘Peter Munk, what brings you to the pine grove?” 
asked the forest king at length in a deep and threaten- 
ing voice. 

‘‘Good-morning, Mr. Countryman,” answered Peter, 
seeking to conceal his fear, but trembling violently ; 
“‘T was only going home through this pine grove.” 

“Peter Munk,” said the giant, turning on him a 
penetrating glance, ‘‘ your road goes not through this 
grove.” 

‘No, sir, not exactly,” replied Peter, ‘‘ but the day is 
warm, and I thought it would be cooler here.”’ 

‘‘ No lies, charcoal-burner!’’ shouted Hollander Mi- 
chael, in a voice of thunder, ‘‘or I will strike you 
dead with this staff! Think you I did not see you 
begging of the manikin?’’ he added more softly. 
‘‘Pooh, pooh, Peter! that was a stupid business, and 
you were lucky in not remembering the poetry. He isa 
niggard, that little wretch, and never gives much, and 
those who receive from him are never happy. Peter, 
you are a poor simpleton, and I pity you from my soul; 
such a high-spirited, handsome lad, who could do so 
much in the great world, and yet only a charcoal-burner ! 
Only able to bring out sixpence, when other men shake 
out big dollars from their pockets! It’s a wretched 


- life!’ 


“So it is, sir; you are right; it is a wretched life 
indeed! ”’ 

‘Well, well,’’ continued the frightful Michael ; ‘‘ you 
will not be the first brave lad I have helped out of his 
difficulties. Say, Peter, how many hundred dollars do 
you want for your first instalment ? ”’ 

26 


302 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


Saying this, he rattled the gold in his big pockets, 
and a sound came to Peter’s ears like that he had heard 
in his dream. But his heart throbbed with terror at 
these words of the spectre, for Hollander Michael 
did not look like one who gave money for charity’s 
sake alone. The old man’s mysterious remarks about 
rich men recurred to his memory, and, filled with an 
inexpressible alarm, he cried: ‘‘ Much obliged, sir! 
but I wish to have nothing to do with you; I know you 
of old,’’ and ran, as he had never run before. The 
demon carne after him with prodigious strides, mutter- 
ing in a hollow and menacing voice: ‘‘ You will regret 
this, Peter. It is written on your forehead, I can read it 
in your eyes, that you will not escape me. Do not run 
so fast ; listen to one sensible word, Peter, before you 
cross my boundary.’”’ Hearing these words, and seeing 
before him at no great distance a narrow trench, Peter 
redoubled his efforts to reach the limits, Michael pursu- 
ing him with threats and curses. The young man 
leaped across the trench with a desperate spring, just 
as he saw the spectre raise his staff to deal a fatal blow 
upon his head. He crossed the trench without mishap, 
and the staff splintered in the air as if it had struck 
an invisible wall, and a long fragment fell at Peter’s feet. 

He picked the piece up triumphantly to throw it 
back at Hollander Michael; but the moment he did 
so he felt the stick move in his hand, and he saw to 
his horror that he held in his grasp a monstrous ser- 
pent, which was already ascending his arm with drip- 
ping tongue and gleaming eyes, to assail his throat. 
He relaxed his hold, but the reptile had wound itself 
round his arm, and its darting head drew nearer and 
nearer to his face. Suddenly a gigantic heathcock flew 
down, and, seizing the serpent’s head in his beak, flew 


THE COLD HEART. 303 


with the reptile into the air ; while Hollander Michael, 
who had seen the whole affair from the further side of 
the trench, howled, yelled and raved, as the snake was 
carried off by a superior power. 

Peter went his way, trembling and exhausted ; the 
path grew steeper, the scene became more savage, 
and he soon found himself at the huge pine. He made, 
as he had done the day before, a low reverence to the 
invisible manikin, and said: 

‘* Treasurer in the forest green, 
Who so many hundred years hast seen, 


Thine is the land where the pine-trees stand, 
And Sabbath-born children bless thy hand.’’ 


‘‘You have n’t exactly hit it, charcoal Peter ; but since 
it is you, let it pass,’”’ said a soft, melodious voice close 
by. He looked round amazed, and under a handsome 
pine he saw sitting a little man, in a black doublet and 
red stockings, with a huge hat on his head. He had a 
pleasant, kindly face, and a long beard as fine as cob- 
web. He was smoking a pipe of blue glass, and, as 
Peter drew nearer, he saw to his astonishment that the 
clothes, shoes and hat of the pigmy were also made of 
colored glass; but it was as flexible as if it were still 
hot, for it adapted itself like cloth to every motion of his 
body. 

‘“‘ You have met that scoundrel, Hollander Michael,’’ 
said the dwarf, coughing oddly between every word. 
‘‘He has served you a shameful trick ; but I have taken 
away his magic staff, and he will never get it again.” 

‘‘Yes, my lord treasurer,’’ replied Peter, with a low 
bow, ‘‘it was an anxious moment. You are the hon- 
orable heathcock, no doubt, who killed the snake. 
Accept my sincerest thanks. I came to obtain your 
advice and aid. My affairs are in a very bad condition, 


304 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


indeed, sir. A charcoal-burner can never do much, and I 
thought that, as 1 was young, I might make something 
better of myself; especially when I see other men who 
have gone ahead so far in a very short time, like Ezekiel, 
for instance, and King Dance, who have money as 
plenty as grass in summer.” 

‘Peter,’ said the pigmy, solemnly, bli wing the 
smoke from the bowl of his pipe ; ‘‘ Peter, say nothing 
to me of those men. What does it profit them to seem 
happy here for a few years, if they are all the more 
miserable afterwards? You must not despise your 
trade ; your father and your grandfather were respect- 
able men, and carried on the same business, Peter 
Munk! I earnestly hope it is no love of idleness 
which brings you to me.” 

Peter was startled by the little man’s solemnity, and 
blushed scarlet. ‘‘ No,’’ said he; ‘‘I well know, my 
lord treasurer, that idleness is the root of all evil ; but 
you will not think the worse of me if I confess that a 
different position from what 1 occupy would please 
me better. A charcoal-burner is looked on as con- 
temptible all the world over, and the glass-blowers and 
raftsmen and watch-makers are much more respect- 
able.”’ 

‘Pride often cometh before a fall,’’ answered the 
little gentleman of the pine grove, more kindly. ‘‘ You 
men are strange beings! Few of you are contented 
with the lot in which you are born and bred. If you 
were a glass-blower, you would wish to be a wood-mas- 
ter; if a wood-master, you would long for the place of 
the forester, or the bailiff. But, so be it; if you prom- 
ise to work diligently, Peter, I will help you to a better 
lot. Iam accustomed to grant to every Sabbath-born 
child, who knows how to find me, three wishes. The 


THE COLD HEART. 305 


first two are absolute ; but the third, if it is a foolish 
one, I am at liberty to refuse. So, state what you 
want. But, Peter, let it be something useful and 
good.”’ 

‘“‘Huzza! O! you are an excellent manikin, and 
properly called treasurer, for treasures are at home in 
your house! Let me see. If I may wish whatever I 
please, sir, let the first be that I may dance better than 
King Dance himself, and have always as much money 
in my pocket as Fat Ezekiel.”’ 

‘You fool! ’’ said the dwarf, angrily. ‘‘ What a mis- 
erable wish is this, to dance well, and have money to 
squander! Are you not ashamed, stupid Peter, to 
cheat yourself of your good fortune in this way ? What 
advantage is it to you and your poor mother, that you 
can dance? What benefit is all your money, which, 
according to your wish, is only for the tavern, and 
remains there like that of the worthless King Dance? 
I give you one more free wish ; but mind you wish more 
sensibly.” 

Peter scratched his ears, and said, after some delay: 
“‘ Well, I wish for the finest and richest glass-house in 
the Black Forest, and money to carry it on.” 

‘Nothing else?’’ asked the dwarf, anxiously; ‘‘ Pe- 
ter, nothing else ?”’ 

‘Well, sir, you might add a horse, and a little car- 
riage —”’ 

‘©Q, you stupid charcoal-burner!’’ cried the pigmy, 
in a rage, throwing his glass pipe against a pine, 
where it broke into a thousand pieces. ‘‘ Horses! car- 
riages! Sense, I tell you, good common sense you 
ought to have wished for, and not horses and carriages! 
Come, don’t be so downcast; it is not so disgraceful, 


after all. Your second wish was not so very absurd. 
26* 


306 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


A good glass-house keeps master and man; but if you 
had taken prudence and common sense with it, the 
horse and carriage would have come of themselves.”’ 

‘‘ But, lord treasurer,’’ said Peter, ‘‘I have still one 
wish left. I can wish for common sense, if you think it 
so necessary.”’ 

‘““No, no. You will get into many a difficulty, Peter, 
where you will be happy to think that you have a wish 
on hand. Here,” said the manikin, drawing a little 
purse from his pocket, ‘‘ here are two thousand florins, 
and enough for you, too; and never come here again to 
ask for money. If you do, I shall hang you up on the 
highest pine in the forest. I have always done so since 
I lived in this wood. Old Winkfritz, who owned the 
great glass-house in the lower forest, died three days 
ago. Go there to-morrow morning early, and make a 
fair offer for the property as it stands. Live honestly, 
be industrious, and I will visit you occasionally to assist 
you with advice, since you failed to ask for common 
sense. But —I say it earnestly — your first wish was 
bad. Beware of going to the tavern, Peter. It never 
benefited anybody yet! ”’ 

While he spoke, the little man had pulled out a fresh 
pipe of glass, and, stuffing it with dry rosin, thrust it 
into his tiny, toothless mouth. Then drawing forth a 
huge burning-glass, he stepped into the sunshine and 
lighted his pipe. When everything was ready, he held 
out his hand graciously to Peter, and, giving him some 
good counsel as they went along, smoked and blew 
faster and faster, till he vanished at length in a cloud 
of smoke, which, slowly curling, floated away among 
the pines. 

When Peter reached home, he found his mother in 
great anxiety on his account; for, from his staying 


THE COLD HEART. 8307 


away so long, the good lady was persuaded that her 
son had been drawn for a soldier. He made his appear- 
ance, however, joyous and cheerful, and told her at 
great length how he had met a good friend in the for- 
est, who had advanced him some money to aid him in 
commencing a different business. Although his mother 
had lived in charcoal thirty years, and had become as 
much accustomed to smutty-faced people as a miller’s 
wife is to the mealy visage of her husband, she was 
foolish enough, as soon as her Peter entered on a more 
brilliant career, to despise her former condition, and 
used to say: ‘‘ Ay, ay, as the mother of a glass-house 
owner, I am of a different sort from neighbors Gretchen 
and Betty; and in future I mean to sit in church in the 
front seats, where the rich folks go.”’ 

Her son soon struck a bargain with the heirs of the 
glass-maker. He hired all the workmen he could find, 
and went to work making glass night and day. At 
first the business delighted him. He would go leis- 
urely down to the glass-house with a consequential 
strut, his hands deep in his trousers’ pockets, and his 
eyes staring insolently in all directions, and there make 
a variety of sententious and absurd remarks, to the 
intense amusement of his workmen, and the total de- 
struction of their respect. His greatest pleasure con- 
sisted in watching the operation of glass-blowing; 
and he often took hold himself and formed odd figures 
from the plastic mass. But the business rapidly grew 
tedious, and his visits to the factory soon occupied but 
one hour in the day; soon after, one in two days; and 
at last he fell into the easy habit of coming only once a 
week, leaving his workmen in the interval to do pre- 
cisely as they pleased. All this was the necessary 
consequence of his devotion to the tavern. 


\ 


308 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


The Sunday after his return from the pine grove he 
repaired to the pot-house, and who should spring on to 
the dancing-floor, as he entered, but King Dance himself, 
while Fat Ezekiel sat behind his tankard, dicing for dollars. 
Peter felt hastily in his pockets, to see if the glass mani- 
kin had kept his promise ; and, see ! they were crammed 
to bursting with silver and gold! His legs, too, were 
jerking and quivering, as if they yearned to be dancing, 
and, as soon as the first dance was ended, he placed 
himself with his partner opposite King Dance. When 
the latter jumped three feet into the air, Peter jumped 
four ; and when his rival made the most rare and deli- 
cate figurings, Peter so played and twisted his feet that 
the spectators went nearly crazy with admiration. But 
when it was known in the dancing-room that Peter had 
purchased a glass-house, when people saw that as often 
as he came near the musicians he threw them a crown, 
there was no end to their astonishment. Some believed 
he had found a treasure in the woods; others thought 
he must have received a legacy; but all honored him 
immensely, and looked upon him as a perfect gentle- 
man, only because he had plenty of money. Though 
he gambled away twenty florins during the evening, 
yet his money still jingled in his pocket, as if there 
were at least a hundred dollars there. 

When Peter perceived how important he had grown, 
he lost all self-restraint from joy and pride. He threw 
about his money with open hands, and shared it lavishly 
among the poor, remembering how heavily poverty had 
once weighed upon himself. The arts of King Dance 
were now cast into the shade by the supernatural skill of 
his new competitor, and Peter received the name of Em- 
peror Dance. The most desperate gamblers never bet 
so much on Sundays as he; nor, on the other hand, did 


THE COLD HEART. 309 


they lose so much. Still, the more he lost, the more he 
seemed to have. This resulted from the form of his 
wish to the glass manikin. He had wished for just as 
much money in his pocket as fat Ezekiel had, and he it 
was to whom he lost his gold. So, when he lost twenty 
or thirty guilders on one bet, he had thei back in his 
pocket as soon as Ezekiel had bagged his gains. Very 
soon he had gone further in gluttony and gambling than 
the vilest debauchees in the Black Forest ; and people 
now oftener called him Gambling Peter than Emperor 
Dance; for he played now almost every week-day. 
Hence his glass-house gradually fell into complete dis- 
order, by reason of Peter’s utter want of sense. He 
made all the glass he could possibly manufacture ; but 
he had not bought, with the house, the secret of selling 
it to the best advantage. He was at a loss at last how 
to dispose of the vast quantity on hand, and sold it 
finally piecemeal to travelling merchants for half its 
value, solely for means to pay his workmen. 

One evening he was going home from the tavern, and 
thinking with dismay, spite of the wine he had drunk, 
of the ruin of his property. Noticing suddenly that 
some one was walking near him, he looked round, and 
saw the glass manikin. He boiled over directly with 
anger and fury, and, assuming a haughty tone, swore 
that the pigmy was responsible for all his misfortunes. 

‘What can I.do now with a horse and carriage? ”’ 
he cried. ‘‘ What good dol get from my glass-house 
and all my glass? When I was a miserable charcoal- 
burner, I lived happier and freer from care than I do 
now. I expect every day the bailiff will come and 
seize my goods for my debts.” 

‘‘So!’’ answered the manikin, ‘‘I am to blame if 
you are unlucky ? Is this your gratitude for my benev- 


310 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS 


olence ? Who taught you to make such foolish wishes? 
You chose to be a glass-blower, and didn’t know where 
to sell your glass! Did 1 not tell you you should have 
wished more prudently? Common sense, Peter; you 
wanted common sense.”’ 

‘*What good is there in common sense? ”’ cried Pe- 
ter. ‘‘I have as much of it as anybody else, as I’ll 
show you, you manikin!” and with these words he 
seized the dwarf by the collar, shouting: ‘‘ Have I got 
you now, treasurer? Ha! ha! I’ll make my third 
wish now, and you shall grant it to me, whether or no! 
I will have, this instant, two hundred thousand hard 
dollars, and a house, and—O, horror!” he cried, 
shaking his hand in agony; for the manikin had sud- 
denly changed into liquid glass, and burned his hand 
like jets of fire. Nothing was to be seen of the 
pigmy. 

His swollen hand reminded him, for many days, of 
his folly and ingratitude. But he stifled the voice of 
conscience, and said to himself, ‘‘ Well, if they sell up 
my gilass-house, and everything else, at any rate they 
can’t take Fat Ezekiel. As long as he has money on 
Sundays, I shall never want.” 

Yes, Peter. But suppose he has none? And one 
day so it happened in the most striking manner. One 
Sunday Peter drove up to the tavern at full speed, and 
the people inside thrust their heads out of the window 
to see him, one saying: ‘‘ Here comes Gambling Peter!”’ 
and another, ‘‘ Ay, Emperor Dance, the rich glass- 
maker !’’ while a third shook his head, saying softly : 
‘« His riches are all very well ; but people say all sorts 
of things of his debts ; and I heard somebody say in 
the city that the bailiff was intending to attach his 
property before long.’’ Peter saluted the people at the 


THE COLD HEART. 311 


window with politeness, and, descending from his car- 
riage, called out: ‘‘ Good-evening, landlord. Has Fat 
Ezekiel come yet?’’ He heard a deep voice answer: 
“Ay, ay, Peter, come in. Your place is kept for you, 
and we are at it already.’”’ Peter Munk entered the 
tavern on this invitation ; and, feeling in his pockets, 
knew at once that Ezekiel must be well supplied with 
funds, for his own pockets were crammed to over- 
flowing. 

He sat down with the others at the table, and won 
and lost alternately, till the more respectable people 
went home; then they played by lamplight, till at 
length two of the gamblers left their seats, saying, 
‘« Well, we have had enough for to-night, and it is time 
to go home to our wives and children.”’ But Gambling 
Peter insisted on Ezekiel’s remaining ; and the latter, 
after many refusals, finally cried: ‘‘ Well, let me count 
my money first, and then we ’ll shake dice for five guil- 
ders a throw ; less than that is child’s play.’”?’ He drew 
out his purse and counted the contents — five hundred 
guilders in cash, and Peter knew at once of course 
how much he himself had, without counting. But, if 
Ezekiel had won before, he lost every stake now, and 
swore fearfully at his ill luck. If he threw doublets, 
Peter threw triplets immediately after, and generally 
something better. At last Ezekiel laid his last five 
guilders on the table, and said with an oath: ‘‘ Here’s 
at you again, Peter; but if I lose this we can still go 
on, for you must lend me some of your winnings; a 
decent fellow must help his friend.”’ 

‘““As much as you want, though you borrow a hun- 
dred,’’ said Peter, delighted at his luck; and Fat Ezekiel 
shook the dice and threw fifteen. ‘Triplets! Good!” 
he cried; ‘‘beat that if you can.’”’ Peter threw eighteen, 


312 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and a well-known voice behind him said, ‘‘ That is the 
last! ”’ 

He looked round, and the gigantic Hollander Michael 
stood behind his chair. In his terror he let the money 
which he had just won, fall to the ground. But Fat 
Ezekiel saw nothing, and requested Gambling Peter to 
lend him ten guilders. Peter thrust his hand into 
his pocket, in a half-dreaming state; but no money 
was there. He felt in his other pocket; still the 
same. He turned his coat inside out, but not a far- 
thing fell. And now for the first time he remembered 
his first wish, which was that he might always have as 
much money as Fat Ezekiel. Every guilder had van- 
ished. 

As he continued to feel for his money, Ezekiel and 
the landlord looked at him in amazement. They could 
not believe that he had none left; but at last, after 
feeling in his pockets themselves, they became furious, 
and swore that Gambling Peter must be a wicked ma- 
gician, and had wished all his winnings away to his own 
house. Peter denied it manfully, but appearances were 
against him. Ezekiel declared he would tell the fright- 
ful story to every person in the Black Forest, and the 
landlord vowed he would go to the city the first thing 
in the morning and denounce Peter Munk as a wizard, 
and he would live, he added, to see the rascal burned 
at the stake. At last they both fell upon him in a fury, 
and, tearing his coat from his back, threw him out of the 
door. 

Not a star was shining in heaven as Peter slunk 
sadly homewards; but he could perceive a dark figure 
striding by his side, which said at length: ‘It is all 
up with you, Peter; all your splendor is gone now, 
and I could have told you it would be so when you 


THE COLD HEART. 313 


refused to listen to my offers, and ran away to that 
stupid glass dwarf. See what a man gets by despising 
my advice. But try your chance with me once, for I 
feel compassion for your bad luck. No one ever repented 
coming to me; and, if you are not. afraid, I can be 
spoken with all day to-morrow at the pine-grove, when- 
ever you call me.” Peter knew very well who the 
speaker was; but his presence filled him with terror, 
and he ran home without making any answer. 





A noise in front of the tavern interrupted the speaker 
at this point. They heard a carriage drive up, several 
voices call for lights, a loud knocking at the front door, 
and several dogs howling and barking outside. The 
chamber assigned to the carrier and the journeyman 
looked out on the road, and the four companions ran 
into it to see what had taken place. From what they 
could see by the faint light of the lanterns, a large trav- 
elling-carriage was standing before the inn; a tall man 
was helping a couple of ladies to alight, and they could 
see a coachman in livery taking out the horses, and 
another servant busy unbuckling the trunks. ‘‘ God 
help them!” sighed the carrier. ‘If these people 
escape with whole skins from this horrible tavern, I 
need feel no anxiety for my poor cart.”’ 

‘“‘Hush!’’ whispered the student. ‘I suspect the 
robbers have been lying in wait for these persons, and 
not for us. Probably they were informed of their route. 
If we could only put them on their guard! Stop. In 
the whole tavern there is not a decent chamber for the 
ladies except that next to mine. They will put them 
there. Stay quietly in this room, and I will try to warn 
the servant.”’ 

The young man crept back to his chamber and extin- 

27 


314 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


guished the candles, leaving the lamp burning which 
the landlady had given him, and then listened at the 
door. He soon heard the landlady coming up stairs 
with the ladies, and showing them into the neighboring 
room with many compliments. After urging her guests 
to go to sleep without delay, as they must be much 
fatigued by their long journey, she went down stairs. 
The student soon heard heavy footsteps ascending. 
He opened the door cautiously, and saw through 
the crack the tall man who had helped the ladies 
out of the carriage. He wore a hunting-suit, had 
a cutlass by his side, and was apparently the cou- 
rier or equerry of the lady travellers. The student 
seeing that he was alone, opened his door rapidly and 
beckoned him in. The stranger approached with some 
surprise, and, before he could inquire what was wanted 
of him, the student whispered: ‘‘ Sir, you have fallen 
to-night into aden of robbers ! ”’ 

The man started back. The student now drew him 
wholly into the room, and told him all the circumstances 
which had excited his suspicions. 

The stranger was much alarmed. He told the young 
man that the ladies, a countess and her waiting-woman, 
had at first intended to travel all night; but that about 
half a league’s distance from this tavern they had met 
a horseman, who had inquired of them where they were 
going, and on being told that they were intending to 
travel all night through Spessart, he warned them that 
now-a-days the roads were very insecure. ‘If you set 
any value on an honest man’s advice,’’ he added, “‘ give 
up your intention. There is a tavern not far off; bad 
and uncomfortable as it is, you would do better to pass 
the night there than run any unnecessary danger this 
dark night.’”? The man who had given this advice had 


THE COLD HEART. 315 


an honest look ; and, in her fear of an attack of robbers, 
the countess had ordered her carriage to be stopped at 
the inn. 

The courier held it to be his duty to inform the ladies 
of the threatened danger. He went into the next room, 
and soon after opened the door leading from the count- 
ess’s chamber into the student’s. The countess, a lady 
of about forty years, came towards the student, pale 
with fear, and made him repeat the whole story. They 
then consulted what to do in this painful state of 
affairs, and decided at last to collect together as cau- 
tiously as possible the two servants, the carrier, and the 
travelling journeymen, in order to make, in case of an 
attack, at least a decent resistance. 

When this had been done, the countess’ chamber was 
locked towards the passage, and barricaded with chairs 
and sofas. She seated herself on the bed with her 
waiting-woman, and the two servants took their posts 
at her side. The earlier guests and the courier seated 
themselves round the table in the student’s room, and 
resolved there to wait for the attack. It was now about 
ten o’clock; everything in the house was perfectly 
quiet and still, and as yet not a movement had been 
made to disturb the guests. The compass-maker now 
said: ‘‘To keep ourselves awake, our best course is to 
do as we were doing before. That is, sir, we were 
telling each other all sorts of stories; and if, Mr. 
Courier, you have no objection, we might go on.” 

The courier assented at once; and, to show his wil- 
lingness, promised to tell them a story himself. He 
thus began: 


316 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 


In the time of Haroun al Raschid, sovereign of Bag- 
dad, there lived in Balsora a man named Benezar, who 
had sufficient property to enable him to live quietly and 
comfortably without engaging in business. Nor did 
the birth of a son induce him to make a change in his 
habits. 

‘Why should I take to buying and selling in my old 
age,’’ said he to his neighbors, ‘‘ to leave to my son Said, 
if things turn out well, a thousand pieces of gold, or so, 
more, after my death? ‘A dinner for two is enough for 
three,’ the proverb says; and, provided he grows up a 
good boy, he shall never come to want.” 

So spoke Benezar, and he kept his word. He edu- 
cated his son to no trade or profession, but instructed 
him carefully in all the books of wisdom ; and as, in his 
opinion, nothing adorned a young man more, with the 
exception of learning and reverence for age, than 
trained strength and courage, he caused him to be 
early taught the use of arms; and Said was soon 
regarded, by youths of his own age, and even by his 
elders, as a formidable opponent; while in riding and 
swimming he had no superior. 

When he was eighteen years old his father sent him 
to Mecca, to visit the grave of the Prophet, that he 
might perform his religious duties at the fountain-head 
of all holiness. Before he set out, his father called him 
into his presence, and, having praised his past life, and 
given him much good advice, furnished him with money 
for his journey, and addressed him in the following 
words : 

‘‘One thing more, son Said. You know me, I sup- 





SAID 


THE FORTUNES OF 





THE FORTUNES OF SAID. SIT 


pose, to be a man generally exempt from vulgar preju- 
dices. I like, of course, to listen to stories of fairies 
and wizards as an agreeable means of passing one’s 
leisure time; but I am far from believing, as so many 
ignorant persons do, that these fairies, or whatever 
other title they go by, exert any influence on the lives 
and actions of men. Your mother, however, now twelve 
years dead, had as firm a belief in them as in the Koran ; 
and she once confided to me, after I had sworn to 
divulge it to no one but her son, that she had been, ever 
since her birth, in close friendship with a fairy. I 
laughed heartily at her credulity; and yet, Said, I am 
obliged to confess that several events took place at 
your birth which filled me with astonishment. It had 
been raining and thundering the whole day, and the sky 
was so black that it was impossible to read without a 
lamp. About four o’clock in the afternoon they told 
me of the birth of my son. I hurried to your mother’s 
chamber to see and bless my first-born, and found all 
her maids standing outside her door. In reply to my 
questions, they answered that no one was allowed to 
enter the room at present, and that Zemira, your 
mother, had commanded every one to leave her. I 
knocked at the door to no purpose. It remained closed. 

While I was standing halfangrily among the domes- 
tics, the sky cleared away more suddenly than I had 
ever seen it do before; but, strange to say, the blue 
arch of heaven was visible only over our dear city of 
Balsora, and around the opening lay the black masses 
of clouds heavily piled together, with the lightning 
flashing and playing round its circumference. As I was 
watching this spectacle with interest, my wife’s door 
flew open, and, leaving the servants outside, I entered 
her chamber alone, to ask her why she had locked her- 

21% 


318 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


self in. As I crossed the threshold, such a stupefying 
odor of roses, pinks and hyacinths, assailed my nos- 
trils, that I came near fainting. Your mother gave you 
into my arms, and pointed at the same time to a tiny 
silver pipe attached to a chain of gold as fine as silk, 
which you were wearing round your neck. ‘The kind 
fairy of whom I told you has been here,’ said your 
mother, ‘and gave this birthday-present to your son.’ 
— ‘The same person, I suppose, who brightened up the 
weather, and left this odor of pinks and roses behind 
her,’ said I, laughing incredulously. ‘She might have 
given something better than this pipe, really ; a purse 
of gold, or a horse, or something of that sort.’ Your 
mother implored me not to jest, lest the offended fairy 
should turn her blessings into maledictions. 

“‘From respect for her illness, I obeyed her wishes, 
and we spoke no more of the singular incident till six 
years later, when she felt that she was about to die. 
She then gave me the pipe, and enjoined upon me to 
deliver it to you on your twentieth birthday, saying 
that I must not suffer you to leave me, even for an 
hour, till that time. She then died; and here is the 
present,’’ continued Benezar, taking a little silver pipe 
and a fine gold chain from a box. ‘I give it to you in 
your eighteenth instead of your twentieth year, as you 
are about to take a long journey, and I may, perhaps, 
be gathered to my fathers before you return. I see no 
reasonable ground for your remaining here with me two 
years longer, notwithstanding the timid forebodings of 
your mother. You are a good and prudent lad, you 
handle your weapons as skilfully as many a man of 
four-and-twenty, and I can therefore as safely acknowl- 
edge you to be of age now as two years hence. And 
now depart in peace ; and both in good and ill-fortune, — 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 819 


against which last may God preserve you, —remember 
your father.”’ 

Benezar of Balsora thus ended, and dismissed his 
son. Said took a tearful leave, and, hanging the chain 
round his neck, and thrusting the pipe into his girdle, 
mounted his horse and rode to the place where caravans 
for Mecca usually assembled. Eighty camels and many 
hundred men were there collected. The caravan took 
up its line of march, and Said rode from the gates of 
his native city Balsora, to see it again only after the 
lapse of many years. 

The novelty of the journey, and the numberless 
strange objects presented to his attention, at first sus- 
tained his spirits and dissipated his sorrow ; but as 
they approached the desert, and the landscape grew 
more and more desolate, he began to think of the events 
of his past life, and, among others, recalled the words 
which his father Benezar had said to him at parting. 

He drew forth the pipe to examine it, and at length 
set it to his lips to test the sweetness and purity of its 
tone ; but to his surprise it gave no sound. He puffed 
out his cheeks and blew with all his force, but not a 
note could he elicit, and, vexed with the uselessness of 
the present, he thrust it back into his girdle. But his 
thoughts soon reverted to his mother’s mysterious 
words. He had heard many stories of fairies, but had 
never found that any of his neighbors in Balsora had 
had dealings with one of these supernatural beings. 
His informants had always laid their traditions of these 
spirits in distant countries and remote periods of time, 
and he had thus been led to suppose that such agencies 
had long since ceased to exist, or that fairies had dis- 
continued visiting mankind, or taking any interest in 
their destinies. In spite of this incredulity, however, 


820 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


he found himself incessantly trying to believe in some- 
thing mysterious and supernatural having happened to 
his mother; and the result was that he sat his horse 
like a dreamer almost the whole day, taking no part in 
the conversation of his fellow-travellers, and wholly 
inattentive to their joyous singing and laughter. 

Said was a youth of extreme beauty. His eye was 
bold and frank, his mouth full of sweetness, and, young 
as he was, there was an air of dignity in his appearance 
such as one rarely finds in persons of his age; while 
the light and easy grace with which he sat his steed 
drew upon him the attention of many of the travellers. 
One old man, riding by his side, was greatly attracted 
by his appearance, and endeavored to sound his dispo- 
sition by a variety of questions. Said, upon whom a 
reverence for age had been carefully impressed, an- 
swered so modestly, and with so much shrewdness and 
reserve, that the old man was delighted. But as the 
lad’s mind had been occupied almost the whole day 
with a single subject, they soon came to talk of the 
mysterious influence of fairies; and Said inquired at 
last of the aged stranger whether he believed in the 
existence of spirits, good or bad, who protected or 
tormented mankind. 

The old man stroked his beard, and, nodding his 
head, answered: 

“It cannot be denied that stories are told of such 
beings, though to this day I myself have never seen 
either a spectral dwarf, or a gigantic genius, or even a 
plain magician.”’ 

He then went on to tell Said such extraordinary sto- 
ries that his head absolutely reeled, and he felt per- 
suaded at last that all which had happened at his birth, 
—the change in the weather and the odor of the roses 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 321 


and hyacinths,—was of great significance; that he 
himself stood under the especial protection of some 
powerful and benevolent fairy; and that the pipe had 
been given him for no other purpose than to whistle for 
the fairy in case of need. He dreamed all night long 
of castles, magic steeds, genii, and the like, and lived 
for the time in a genuine fairy-realm. 

But, on the following day, he was painfully shown 
how delusive were all his sleeping and waking dreams. 
The caravan had advanced at an easy pace for the 
greater part of the day, when dark shadows became 
visible on the extreme verge of the horizon. Some of 
the travellers took them to be hills of sand, others pro- 
nounced them clouds, others that they were another 
caravan; but the old man, who had crossed the desert 
many times, shouted to his companions to look out for 
themselves, for that it was a horde of Arab robbers on 
the march. The men seized their arms, the women and 
treasures were placed in the middle, and everything 
was made ready for an attack. The dark mass advanced 
across the plains with a rapidly-increasing pace, and the 
travellers had scarcely time to make out clearly men 
and lances, before the enemy rushed down with the 
speed of the wind, and made a furious charge upon the 
caravan. 

Its owners made a valiant resistance, but the robbers 
were over four hundred strong. They attacked them 
on every side, killed many, and then charged them with 
the lance. Said, who had been all the time fichting 
boldly among the foremost, at this terrible moment 
called to mind his pipe. He drew it quickly out, set it 
to his lips, blew—and sadly let it fall again, for it 
emitted not the faintest sound. Furious at this disap- 
pointment, he took a steady aim, and shot through the 





$22 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


heart an Arab, conspicuous for the splendor of his 
dress, who at once dropped dead from his horse. 

‘‘ Allah! what have you done?” cried the old man 
at his side. ‘‘ We are all lost!’’ And so, indeed, it 
seemed ; for the robbers no sooner saw their leader fall 
than they raised a frightful cry, and attacked the cara- 
van with such fury that the few men yet unwounded 
were speedily despatched. Said saw himself in a mo- 
ment attacked by five or six. He used his lance so 
skilfully that no one ventured to come within its reach. 
Finally, one of his assailants retired to a distance, and, 
drawing out an arrow, was about to. let it fly, when 
another robber made a sign to him to refrain. The 
young man prepared himself for a fresh attack, but, 
before he was aware, an Arab had thrown a noose over 
his head; and, strive as he might to break the cord, 
the noose was drawn tighter and tighter about his neck, 
and Said was a prisoner. 

The whole caravan was by this time either slain or 
taken captive, and the conquerors, who consisted of 
more than one tribe of Arabs, took their departure, —a 
portion to the south, the remainder to the east. Four 
armed men rode near Said, looking at him often with 
savage glances, and heaping curses on his head; and 
Said decided that the man he had killed must have been 
a person of great authority. Speedy death was, in his 
eyes, far less painful to contemplate than hopeless 
slavery ; and he rejoiced over his good fortune, in hav- 
ing drawn upon himself the hatred of the whole tribe, 
for he firmly believed that he would be put to death as 
soon as they reached theiy camp. The armed riders 
watched his every movement, and threatened him with 
their spears as often as he turned his eyes. But once, 
as the horse of one of them stumbled, he turned his 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 323 


head rapidly about, and to his joy caught sight of his 
aged companion, whom he had supposed to be among 
the slain. 

Trees and tents were visible at last in the distance, 
and, as they came nearer, a stream of women and chil- 
dren rushed out to meet them; but they had scarcely 
exchanged three words with the returning band, when 
they broke out into a frightful howl, and followed Said, 
menacing him with threatening gestures, and heaping 
him with maledictions. ‘He is the hound,’”’ they 
shouted, ‘‘ who has slain Almansor, the bravest of the 
brave! He must die! We will give his flesh to the 
jackal of the desert.”” Thereupon they assaulted Said 
so furiously with sticks, stones, and clods of earth, that 
the robbers were compelled to interpose. 

““ Away, you children! Women, away! ”’ cried they, 
scattering the crowd with their lances. ‘‘ He has slain 
the great Almansor in battle, and must die; but by the 
sword of a warrior, not by the hand of a woman.”’ 

The procession halted in an open space among the 
tents. The prisoners were tied together, two and two, 
and the booty carried to the tents; while Said was 
chained alone, and led into a large marquee. In this sat 
an aged, richly-dressed man, whose stern and haughty 
air showed him to be the chief of the tribe. The men 
in charge of Said took their stand before him with low- 
ered heads. 

“The women’s wails have told me what has taken 
place,”’ said the chieftain, looking at each of the robbers 
in turn; ‘‘and your looks confirm it, — Almansor has 
fallen !”’ 

‘‘ Almansor has fallen,’?’ answered the men; ‘‘ but 

Boo Selim, sovereign of the desert, is his murderer, 
whom we bring for you to judge. What death shall he 


324 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


die? Shall we make hima target for our arrows; or 
hunt him through an avenue of lances? Or is it your 
will that he be hanged in a halter, or torn to pieces by 
horses ?”’ 

‘““Who art thou?’’ asked Selim, looking darkly at 
the prisoner, who stood before him bravely and pre- 
pared for death. 

Said answered his question briefly, and without re- 
serve. 

‘‘ Hast thou killed my son treacherously ? Hast thou 
slain him from behind with an arrow or a lance ?”’ 

““Not so, my lord!” answered Said. ‘I slew him 
in front, in open battle, as he attacked our ranks, 
after-he had killed eight of my comrades before my 
eyes.” , 

‘‘Ts it as he says ?’’ demanded Selim of the men who 
had captured Said. 

“Yes, my lord,’’ said one of the interrogated. ‘‘ He 
killed Almansor in open fight.” 

‘‘Then has he done no more than we also should 
have done,’”’ answered Selim. ‘‘ He has slain the foe 
who would rob him of life and liberty. Remove his 
bonds! ”’ 

The men looked at their chief in astonishment, and 
obeyed his order with sullen reluctance. ‘‘ And shall 
the murderer of the brave Almansor live?” inquired 
one of them, casting a furious glance on Said. ‘ Why 
did we not slay him on the spot!” 

“He shall live!’’ shouted Selim; ‘and I take him 
into my own tent, as my share of the booty. He shall 
be my servant.”’ 

Said could not find words to express his thanks. 
The men left the tent muttering curses; and, as soon 
as they had communicated Selim’s resolve to the women 


. 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 325 


and children assembled outside and waiting for Said’s 
condemnation, the latter raised a yell of disappointed 
rage, and cried that they would revenge Almansor’s 
death on his murderer with their own hands. 

The prisoners were divided among the tribe, a few of 
them being released to obtain the ransom-money for the 
rest, and others sent to the flocks as shepherds ; and 
many unfortunate men, who had till now been waited 
on by a dozen slaves themselves, were now compelled 
to perform the humblest services for their captors. Not 
so, Said. Was it his courageous bearing, or the influ- 
ence of some good fairy, which so inclined old Selim to 
the lad? This strange partiality of the old man drew on 
him the enmity of the other servants. Everywhere he 
met with looks of hate. Whenever he went alone 
through the camp, he heard insults and imprecations 
poured upon him, and more than once an arrow had 
flown before his breast, evidently intended for his heart, 
and whose failure to hit its mark he ascribed solely to his 
pipe.- He often complained to Selim of these attempts, 
but the old chief in vain endeavored to discover the 
treacherous assassin, for the whole tribe seemed to be 
united as one man against his life. 

One day old Selim said to him: ‘‘I had hoped that 
you would replace my son, who perished by your hand. 
It is the fault of neither of us that this cannot be done. 
All here are inflamed against you, and for the future 
even I cannot protect you. What benefit is it to you 
or me, if, after they have killed you, I bring your mur- 
derers to punishment? Therefore, Said, when my fol- 
lowers come home from their excursion, I will give out 
that your father has sent me your ransom, and will 
cause you to be conducted, by some trusty men, secs di 
out of the desert.” 

28 


326 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘But can I put faith in any one but you?” asked 
Said. ‘‘ Will they not kill me on the road?” 

‘‘The oath they shall swear to me, and which no one 
has ever broken, will protect you from violence,” an- 
swered Selim, calmly. 

Some days after, the tribe returned to camp, and 
Selim kept his promise. He gave the young man 
weapons, and a horse, and, assembling his warriors and 
selecting five of them for Said’s escort, bound them by 
a frightful oath to spare his life, and dismissed him with 
many tears. 

Gloomy and silent the five men rode with Said 
through the desert. The youth saw how reluctantly 
they obeyed their chief; and it caused him no little 
uneasiness to recognize two of them as having been 
present at the battle in which he had slain Almansor. 
After riding about eight leagues, Said heard them whis- 
pering among themselves, and observed that their bear- 
ing had grown more menacing. He pricked his ears to 
listen, and perceived that they were conversing in a 
dialect peculiar to the tribe, and which was only spoken 
on important and secret occasions. Selim, who had 
designed to keep the lad constantly in his tent, had 
devoted many hours to teaching him this secret lan- 
guage; but what he now heard was anything but 
enlivening. 

‘« Here is the place,’’ said one, ‘‘ where we attacked 
the caravan; and here fell the bravest of our tribe by 
the hand of a boy.”’ 

‘« And shall he who did the deed still live to our dis- 
grace, and be free? When before did a father refuse to 
avenge the death of his son? But Selim is old and 
childish.”’ 

“Tf a father renounces his rights,’’ said a third, “ it 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 327 


is a friend’s duty to avenge a fallen friend. We should 
hew him to pieces on this spot! ”’ 

‘“‘But we have sworn to the chief,’’ cried a fourth, 
‘‘that we would not kill him, and our oath must not be 
broken.” 

“Tt is true,’”’? said the others, ‘‘we have sworn, and 
the murderer goes unscathed from the hands of his ene- 
mies.” 

‘‘Stay!’’ cried one, the fiercest of them all. ‘Old 
Selim is crafty ; but not so crafty as men think. Have 
we sworn to him to carry this boy to any particular 
place? No! He took of us an oath to spare his life ; 
and that we will spare him. But the burning sun and 
the teeth of the jackals | will accomplish our revenge. 
We will leave him bound upon the sands.” 

Said had been for some minutes prepared for the 
worst, and, as the last words were spoken, turned 
his steed suddenly aside, and, giving him a vigorous 
cut, flew like a bird across the plain. The five men 
halted a moment in surprise; but, familiar with such 
incidents, they instantly divided, and pursued him right 
and left; and, being better acquainted with the ground 
and the mode of riding suited to the desert, two of them 
speedily overtook the fugitive and turned his flank, 
and, on his drawing his rein to avoid them, he found on 
his other side also two enemies, and at his back a fifth. 
Their oath to spare his life restrained them from making 
use of their weapons; so, a second time throwing a 
lasso over his head, they dragged him from his horse, 
and, beating him unmercifully, tied his hands and feet 
together and laid him down on the glowing sands of 
the desert. 

Said uttered heart-rending cries for mercy, and prom- 
ised them a prodigious ransom if they would spare his 


328 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


life ; but, laughing at his offers, they mounted their 
horses and rode away like the wind. For a few 
moments he listened to the light footsteps of their 
steeds, and then gave himself up for lost. He thought 
of his father, and of the old man’s anguish should his 
son return no more; he thought of his own hard fate 
to be obliged to die so young; for nothing seemed 
more certain than that he was to suffer the agonies 
of a languishing death on the scorching sands, or be 
torn to pieces by the jackals. 

The sun rose higher and higher, and beat fiercely 
on his face, and with inexpressible difficulty he suc- 
ceeded in turning over; but to find little relief. In 
consequence of his exertions the pipe had fallen from 
his girdle. He struggled till he succeeded in reaching 
it with his mouth, and tried to blow, but even in this 
frightful extremity it refused its aid. Despairing of 
escape his head fell, and, the burning sun soon deprived 
him of his senses ; he sank into a deep swoon. 

After the lapse of many hours a sound in his vicin- 
ity recalled Said to himself; he felt at the same time 
a grasp on his shoulder, and, believing it to be a 
jackal about to devour him, uttered a cry of horror. 
At the same moment he felt himself seized by the 
legs, but he perceived that they were no wild beast’s 
teeth which held him, but the hands of a man busily 
occupied in releasing him from his bonds, and who was 
talking with two or three others, who stood looking 
on. ‘‘ He lives,’’ they whispered, ‘‘ but he takes us for 
enemies.”’ 

Said now opened his eyes, and saw bending over him 
the face of a little, ugly man, with small eyes and a 
long beard. This stranger spoke to him kindly, helped 
him to rise to his feet, and, supplying him with food 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. j 329 


and drink, told him, while he refreshed his exhausted 
strength, that he was a merchant from Bagdad, that 
his name was Kalum Beg, and that he dealt in shawls 
and costly veils for ladies’ use. He had been making a 
journey on business, and was now on his return, and 
had found Said lying senseless on the ground. Said’s 
rich dress and the jewels in his dagger had attracted 
the merchant’s attention; he had made every effort to 
restore him to animation, and had fortunately succeeded. 
The young man thanked him for his life, for he saw 
clearly that but for the intervention of this stranger, 
he must have died a miserable, lingering death; and 
having neither means to extricate himself from his 
perils, nor inclination to travel through the desert alone 
and on foot, he accepted gratefully a seat on one of the 
merchant’s camels, and resolved to go with him to 
Bagdad, in the hopes of finding there a caravan about 
to return to Balsora. 

On the way the merchant told his newly-found com- 
panion many stories of the excellent Commander of the 
Faithful, Haroun al Raschid. He described his love of 
justice, and his marvellous acuteness, and how he could 
adjust the most complicated lawsuits in the simplest 
and most admirable way. Among others, he told him 
the story of the Ropemaker, and of the Pot of Olives; 
stories which every child is familiar with, but which 
excited in Said the deepest interest. ‘Our lord, the 
Commander of the Faithful,’? continued the merchant, 
‘‘ig a wonderful man. If you suppose he sleeps like 
ordinary men, you are greatly mistaken. Two or three 
hours’ sleep in the early morning, is all the refreshment 
he obtains. My information is sure, for Messour, his 
first chamberlain, is my cousin, and although as silent 
as the grave on the secrets of his master’s household, 

28* 


830 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


yet now and then he gives a little hint of what goes on 
behind the scenes to a valued relation, when he sees 
him almost crazy from curiosity. Instead of sleeping 
like common men, the caliph walks in disguise through 
the streets of Bagdad, and, a week rarely passes in 
which he does not encounter some adventure ; for you 
must know, as in fact is proved by the story of the Pot 
of Olives, which is as true as the Koran, that he does 
not go about with his guard, and on horseback, in full 
dress and with a hundred torch-bearers, as he might if 
he chose, but wanders round in disguise, sometimes as 
a merchant, sometimes a sailor, then again a soldier, 
or perhaps a mufti, and sees with his own eyes if every- 
thing is in good order in his dominions. 

“Hence it comes that in no city in the world are 
men so polite to every rogue they meet at night, as in 
Bagdad ; for it may as likely as not prove to be the caliph 
himself disguised as a dirty Arab, and there is enough 
wood growing to give every man in Bagdad the basti- 
nado, in case of impertinence.”’ 

So spoke the merchant ; and Said, though torn fe a 
desire to see his father, still rejoiced much at the pros- 
pect of seeing Bagdad and the famous Haroun al 
Raschid. 

They reached Bagdad in about ten days, and Said 
was filled with admiration at the magnificence of the 
city, at that time at the acme of its splendor. The 
merchant invited him to take up his residence with him, 
and Said willingly accepted the offer; for in this torrent 
of human beings, it now occurred to him, for the first 
time, that, excepting the air, the waters of the Tigris, 
and a sleeping-place on the steps of some mosque, 
nothing here could be obtained without money. 

The day after his arrival, while he was putting the 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 331 


last touches to his costume, and was secretly assuring 
himself that in this handsome military dress he need 
feel no embarrassment in showing himself in the streets 
of Bagdad, the merchant entered his chamber, and, 
looking at the lad with an unpleasant laugh, stroked his 
heard and said: ‘‘This is all very fine, young man! 
But what is to become of you now? You are an 
accomplished dreamer, it seems, and take no thought 
for the morrow; or have you so much money in your 
pockets, that you can live in a style corresponding 
with the handsome clothes you have on?”’ 

“Excellent Kalum Beg,”’ said the lad, embarrassed 
and blushing; ‘‘money indeed I have not, but perhaps 
you will be willing to lend me a little, to take me home; 
my father will pay it to the last piastre.” 

“Your father, boy!’ cried the merchant with a 
harsh laugh. ‘‘I believe the sun has scorched your 
brains. Do you suppose I believe a word of the story 
you told me in the desert, about your father being a 
rich citizen of Balsora, and you his only son, and about 
the attack of the Arabs, and your residence with the 
tribe, and all that nonsense? Even while you told me 
these stories I grew angry at your impudence and 
audacity. I know that in Balsora all the rich people 
are merchants, for I have had many dealings with them, 
and I should have surely heard of Benezar, if he were 
worth a zechin. So it is either a falsehood that you 
belong to Balsora, or your father is some poor wretch 
to whose runaway son I will not lend an aspre. And 
then the attack in the desert! Since our wise caliph, 
Haroun, extended his protection to the merchant cara- 
vans, who ever heard of robbers daring to plunder a 
caravan and carry away men? If it were true, I 
should have heard of it on the road, to say nothing of 


332 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


Bagdad here, where men meet from all quarters of the 
globe; yet, I have never heard it mentioned. That is 
the second lie, impudent scoundrel !”’ 

Said, pale with anger and surprise, would have inter- 
rupted his diminutive accuser, but the little man shouted 
louder than he, and gesticulated fiercely with his arms. 
‘And your third falsehood, you audacious liar, is your 
story of Selim’s camp. Selim’s name is well known to 
every one who has ever seen an Arab; but he is known to 
be a frightful and bloodthirsty robber ; and yet you dare 
to say that you killed his son, and were not cut to pieces 
by him on the spot! Ay, you carry your impudence 
too far, when you say that Selim protected you against 
his tribe, took you into his own tent, and let you go 
without a ransom, instead of hanging you on the near- 
est tree; he, who has often hanged travellers merely 
to laugh at the faces they make while dying. O, you 
horrible liar ! ’”” 

‘‘T can say nothing more,”’ cried the lad, ‘‘ but that 
I swear by my soul and by the beard of the Proph- 
et, that the whole story is as true as the Koran.’’ 

‘““What! do you swear by your soul?”’ cried the 
merchant, ‘“‘by your black, false soul! Who will 
believe you? And by the beard of the Prophet, you, 
who have no beard? Who will trust you for that?”’ 

“It is true I have no witness,” said Said, ‘but did 
you not yourself find me suffering and in bonds ?”’ 

“That proves nothing,’ shrieked the merchant ; 
“‘ you were dressed like a robber, and probably you had 
attacked some one who was stronger than you, and 
he vanquished and bound you.” 

“‘T should like to see any man, or any two men,” 
answered Said, ‘‘ who could bind me, unless they threw 
a noose over my head; of course you know nothing 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 333 


of what a man can do who is skilled in the use of 
arms. But you have saved my life, and I thank you. 
What do you think to do with me? If you refuse to 
feed me, I must beg; and I cannot ask favors of my 
equals. I will go to the caliph.” 

“So!” said the merchant, laughing contemptuously. 
“And will no other serve your turn but our most 
admirable caliph? That I call presumption indeed! 
Ha, ha! remember, young gentleman, that the road to 
the caliph is through my cousin Messour, and that it will 
cost me but one word to put him on his guard against 
your atrocious lying. But I feel compassion for your 
youth, Said. You can make something of yourself if 
you will. JI will take you into my shop in the bazaar, 
and you shall serve with me for one year. When this is 
passed, if you do not choose to stay, I will pay you your 
wages, and let you go whither you please, to Aleppo, 
Medina, Stamboul, Balsora, to the infidels for all I care. — 
I give you till noon to decide. If you agree to my terms, 
good; if not, I will calculate reasonably the expenses 
you have put me to, and the seat you filled on my 
camel, pay myself with your clothes, and throw you 
into the street ; there you may beg as you please.” 

With these words the wicked fellow left the room, and 
Said looked after him in a state of stupor. He was 
bewildered by the baseness of this man, who had so 
evidently brougkt him to Bagdad and invited him 
into his house, merely to get him into his power. He 
looked about for some means of escape, but the win- 
dows were grated and the door locked. At last, after 
a long struggle with his repugnance, he decided to 
accept the merchant’s offer, and take service in his 
shop. He felt, indeed, that no better course was left 
to him ; for, supposing he escaped, still, without money, 


834 ARABIAN, DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


he would be unable to reach Balsora. He resolved, 
however, as soon as it was in his power, to implore pro- 
tection from the caliph himself. 

The next day Kalum Beg took his new servant to 
his shop. He showed Said the shawls, veils, and other 
articles in which he dealt, and instructed him in his 
daily duties. These were, that Said, dressed like a 
merchant’s clerk, and no longer in military costume, 
should stand at the shop-door, with a shawl in one 
hand and a veil in the other, call to those passing by, 
exhibit his wares, mention the price, and invite the peo- 
ple to buy; and Said could now see why Kalum Beg 
had selected him for this office. He was himself a small, 
ugly man, and when he stood at the door and called 
for customers, his neighbors or the passers-by cracked 
their jokes, the boys made fun of him, and the women 
called him scarecrow. But every one liked to look at 
the young, slim Said, who cried his wares with so much 
grace, and held his shawls and veils with so much skill 
and elegance. 

Kalum Beg, seeing that his custom had much in- 
creased since Said stood at the shop-door, became more 
friendly to the unhappy boy, fed him better than before, 
and hoped to retain him for the rest of his life. But 
Said was little affected by these indications of his mas- 
ter’s softening disposition, and pondered all day long, 
and even in his dreams, on the best way of effecting his 
escape to his native city. 

One evening, when the sale during the day had been 
large, and the porters, who carried the goods to the 
purchasers’ houses, had all been sent out on their 
respective errands, a lady entered the shop to make a 
purchase. Having made her selection, she inquired for 
@ messenger to carry the articles to her house. 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 335 


“T can send your package in half an hour,”’ answered 
Kalum Beg; ‘ but for that short time I beg you to have 
patience, or take some other porter.” 

“You a merchant, and give your customers strange 
porters?” cried the lady. ‘‘ What is there to prevent 
such a fellow from running away with my property in 
the crowd? And whois there I can employ? No; it 
is your duty, by the laws of the market, to send my 
articles home for me, and I insist on your doing so.” 

“But, excellent madam, please be patient for half an 
hour,’’ said the merchant, with growing distress. ‘ All 
my porters have been sent out —”’ 

“A pretty shop this, without porters enough to run 
its errands!”’ said the angry lady. ‘‘ But there stands 
just such an idler as I want. Come, young man, take 
my bundle and bring it after me.”’ 

‘“‘Stop! stop!” cried Kalum Beg. ‘That is my 
sign-board, my crier, my magnet! He mustn’t quit 
the shop on any account! ” 

‘‘Pooh, pooh!’ answered the old lady, putting her 
bundle into Said’s hands without further ado; ‘they 
are miserable goods which must have a lazy clown like 
this to advertise them. Go along, child, you shall earn 
a little pocket-money to-day.”’ 

‘Run, then, in the name of Ariman and all the dev- 
ils!’’ muttered Kalum Beg to his magnet; ‘‘and see 
you come back soon. The old witch will make an up- 
roar through the whole bazaar if I refuse any longer.” 

Said followed the lady, who hurried through the 
various streets with a lighter step than he would have 
thought possible in a woman of her age. She halted at 
length before a handsome house, the doors of which 
flew open at her knock, and, beckoning Said to follow, 
she ascended the marble steps. They soon reached a 


336 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


lofty, spacious hall, of greater splendor than Said had 
ever seen before. There the old lady seated herself 
exhausted on a cushion; and, motioning the boy to lay 
down his bundle, handed him a bit of silver, and bade 
him go. 

He had already reached the door, when a clear, sweet 
voice called, ‘‘Said!’’ Surprised at being known here, 
he looked round, and, in place of the old woman, a 
beautiful lady, surrounded by scores of slaves and 
women-servants, was sitting on the cushion. Said, 
dumb with astonishment, crossed his arms and made a 
respectful inclination. 

“Said, my dear child,’ said the lady, ‘‘much as I 
regret the accident which brought you to Bagdad, this 
was the only place decreed by fate where, in case you 
left your father’s house before your twentieth year, you 
could release yourself from your destiny. Said, have 
you your pipe still?” 

‘‘T have, indeed,’”’ answered the lad joyously, draw- 
ing out the golden chain; ‘‘and you are, perhaps, the 
good fairy who gave me it the day I was born?” 

‘‘T was your mother’s friend,’’ answered the fairy, 
‘(and am yours also. Ah! if your father, foolish man, 
had but followed my advice, you would have escaped 
much suffering.” 

‘‘Nay, it was my destiny!’ answered Said. ‘ But, 
darling fairy, give orders to have a strong east wind 
harnessed to your chariot, and carry me to Balsora in a 
couple of minutes. I will pass there in patience the six 
months to elapse before my twentieth year.”’ 

The fairy laughed. ‘‘ You have a taking way of ask- 
ing a favor,’”’ she answered; ‘‘ but, poor Said, it is im- 
possible! I can do nothing wonderful for you so long 
as you are under twenty years of age. I cannot even 


. 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 337 


release you from the power of the miserable Kalum 
Beg! He stands under the protection of your greatest 
enemy.” 

‘‘Then I have an enemy as well as a friend,” ex- 
claimed Said. ‘I believe I have often felt her influ- 
ence. But at least you can aid me with your advice ? 
Shall I not go to the caliph and implore his protection ? 
He is a wise man, and will protect me against Kalum 
Beg.” : 

“Yes, Haroun is a wise man,” replied the fairy; 
‘‘but, alas, he is still but a man. He trusts Messour, 
his head chamberlain, as freely as himself; and he is 


‘right, for he has proved him and found him true. Mes- 


sour, however, trusts your friend Kalum Beg as freely 
as himself, and herein he is wrong, for Kalum is a bad 
man, though he is Messour’s relation. Kalum is a cun- 
ning knave, and as soon as he came to Bagdad reported 
a story about you to his cousin the chamberlain, which 
the chamberlain straightway carried to the caliph; so 
that you would find yourself inhospitably received if 
you entered the palace of Haroun, for he has no faith 
in you. But there are other ways of approaching him, 
and it stands written in the stars that you shall yet win 
his favor.” 

‘‘This is a bad prospect, indeed,”’ groaned Said. ‘‘I 
must serve some time longer, then, as an advertisement 
with that scoundrel Kalum. But, charming fairy, there 
is one favor which it is in your power to grant me. I 
was early taught a knowledge of arms, and a mock- 
fight is my highest enjoyment. The young nobles of 
this city hold every week a tournament. But only 
gentlemen are permitted to ride inside the barriers, 
excluding, of couyse, every servant in the bazaar. If 
you could so bring it about that I could obtain every 

29 


338 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


week a horse, a suit of armor, and weapons, and alter 
my expression so as to disguise me completely — ”’ 

“?T is a wish which a gentleman may utter without 
shame,”’ said the fairy. ‘‘ Your mother’s father was the 
bravest man in all Syria, and his spirit seems to be in- 
herited by you. Observe this house. You shall find 
here every week a horse and two mounted esquires, 
suitable arms and clothes, and a magic wash for your 
face, which shall render your disguise impenetrable to 
all eyes. And now, Said, farewell! Persevere, be 
cautious and honest! In six months your pipe will 
sound, and Zulima’s ear will be open to receive its 
music.”’ 

The youth took leave of his protectress with gratitude 
and reverence, and, taking accurate notice of the street 
and the house, went back to the bazaar. 

Said arrived precisely in time to support and rescue 
his lord and master, Kalum Beg. A great throng had 
gathered round the shop, boys were dancing and jeer- 
ing round the old merchant, and the older portion of 
the crowd were shaking with noisy laughter. Kalum 
was standing before the shop, trembling with anger, 
and holding in one hand a shawl, in the other a rich 
veil. This singular scene was the result of an incident 
which had taken place after Said’s departure. Kalum 
had taken his stand before his door in place of his hand- 
some servant, and had been proclaiming his goods ; but 
no one would buy of the old, hideous creature. Two 
men had passed through the bazaar in search of a pres- 
ent for their wives. They had already passed several 
times up and down before the shops, and had lately 
been seen by Kalum approaching his open door on their 
way through the market. 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 339 


Kalum Beg, desirous to turn this circumstance to his 
advantage, called out to them : 

‘‘Here, gentlemen, here! What are you looking for? 
Beautiful veils, beautiful shawls! ”’ 

“« Old fellow,’? answered one of them, ‘‘no doubt 
your wares are extremely good, but our wives are whim- 
sical, and it is the fashion in the city to buy veils of the 
handsome shopman, Said. We have wandered up and 
down here now a good half hour in search of him. If 
you can tell us where he is to be found, we will buy of 
you some other time.” 

‘* Allah il Allah!’’ cried Kalum Beg, grinning invit- 
ingly. ‘‘The Prophet has brought you to the right 
shop. You would buy a veil of the handsome shopman, 
you say? Come in, then, gentlemen ; this is his estab- 
lishment.”’ 

One of the gentlemen laughed heartily at Kalum’s 
diminutive figure, and his supposed impudence in claim- 
ing to be the handsome shopman. The other, however, 
thought that Kalum was cracking his jokes on them, 
and rated him soundly. Kalum Beg was almost beside 
himself; he called his neighbors to bear witness that 
no other establishment than his own was called the shop 
of the handsome shopman; but the neighbors, who 
envied him the extensive custom he had for some time 
enjoyed, pretended to know nothing about it, and the 
two men treated the old liar, as they called him, to a 
severe flogging. Kalum defended himself more with 
shrieks and outcries than with his fists, and a crowd 
was soon collected before the door. Half the city 
knowing him for a stingy, close-fisted niggard, the 
thumps and blows he was receiving excited no sympa- 
thy ; and already one of the two assailants had the old 
man fast by the beard, when he felt himself seized by 


840 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the arm, and with one vigorous shove thrown to the 
ground, so that by the force of the fall his turban fell 
off, and his slippers flew to some distance. 

The crowd, who enjoyed mightily seeing Kalum Beg 
abused, murmured audibly, and the companion of the 
man knocked down looked round to see who had dared 
to assault his friend ; but, seeing a tall, vigorous youth 
with gleaming eyes and angry bearing, he did not ven- 
ture to retaliate, especially when Kalum, whose rescue 
seemed to him a miracle, pointed at the lad, crying: 
‘“Now! what more do you want? There he stands, 
gentlemen! That is Said, the handsome shopman !” 

The people around laughed tremendously, while the 
prostrate foe rose from the ground in great mortifica- 
tion, and hobbled away with his comrade, without buy- 
ing either shawl or veil. 

“<Q, thou star of shopmen! thou glory of the bazaar! ”’ 
cried Kalum, when his magnet had carried him into the 
shop; “ truly, this I call being punctual! That scoun- 
drel lay on the ground, as if he never meant to get up 
again; and 1 —I should never more have needed a bar- 
ber to comb my beard, if you had come two minutes 
later! How shall I ever recompense you?” 

It had been a spontaneous feeling of compassion 
which had nerved Said’s hand and heart; and, as this 
feeling subsided, he regretted deeply that he had saved 
the old rascal from his deserved flogging ; a dozen 
hairs less in his beard, he thought to himself, would 
have made him, for as many days, less harsh and exact- 
ing. He availed himself, however, of the merchant’s 
transitory generosity, and begged of him, as a token of 
his gratitude, one afternoon of each week for his own 
pleasures ; which request Kalum granted, for he was 
perfectly aware that his unwilling servant was too 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 341 


sensible a fellow to attempt to escape without money or 
clothes. 

Thus speedily had Said obtained the object of his de- 
sires. The next week, on the day when the young 
nobles of Bagdad assembled in the open square to prac- 
tise their military exercises, he told Kalum that he 
would take this afternoon for his own purposes ; and, 
having obtained his permission, went to the street 
where the fairy dwelt, and knocked at the door, which 
flew open without an instant’s delay. 

The servants seemed forewarned of his arrival, for, 
without demanding his business, they led him up the 
steps into a beautiful chamber, and there handed him 
the wash which was to prevent his recognition. He 
rubbed his face with the liquid, and, looking in the mir- 
ror, could scarcely recognize himself; for he was now 
deeply sun-burnt, wore a handsome black beard, and 
looked at least ten years older than he really was. 

From here they led him into a second apartment, 
where he found a complete suit of armor, of which the 
caliph himself would have had no reason to feel ashamed. 
Besides a turban of the finest texture, with an agraffe of 
diamonds and heron’s feathers, and a cloak of crimson 
silk, embroidered with silver flowers, Said found a 
breastplate of silver rings, so finely wrought that it 
adapted itself to every movement of his body, yet im- 
penetrable to lance or sword. A Damascus blade, with 
a hilt whose jewels seemed to Said of inestimable value, 
completed his military outfit. As he left the room after 
equipping himself in these garments, one of the servants 
handed him a silken cloth, and told him that the mis- 
tress of the house sent it him; and that the beard and 
brown hue of his complexion would vanish as soon as he 
wiped his face with it. 

29* 


342 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


Three horses were standing in the court-yard. Said 
mounted the finest, his servants the two others, and they 
trotted to the scene of combat. The brilliancy of his 
dress and the beauty of his arms and horse, attracted 
universal attention, and a murmur of admiration passed 
through the multitude when he rode inside the ring. 
It was a gorgeous assemblage of the bravest and noblest 
youths of Bagdad, and even the caliph’s brothers were 
there, managing their steeds and brandishing their glit- 
tering lances. 

When Said rode in, apparently a stranger, the son of 
the grand vizier approached him, and, saluting him 
gracefully, invited him to take part in their sports, and 
inquired his name and country. Said replied that his 
name was Almansor, that he came from Cairo, and that 
he had heard so much of the courage and dexterity of 
the young gentlemen of Bagdad, that he had allowed 
himself no rest till he had seen and known them. His 
manly bearing pleased the young men so much, that 
they handed him a lance, and permitted him to choose 
his side; for the combatants had divided themselves 
into two parties. 

If Said’s external appearance had hitherto drawn so 
much attention, his extraordinary dexterity now ex- 
cited increased admiration and amazement. His horse 
was fleeter than a bird, and his sword flew round his 
head like lightning. He threw his lance as truly to 
its target as though it were an arrow sent from an un- 
erring bow. He vanquished the most skilful of his 
antagonists, and, at the conclusion of the combat, was 
so unanimously pronounced the victor, that one of the 
brothers of the caliph and the son of the grand vizier, 
who had fought on Said’s side, begged him to give them 
also an opportunity to test his skill: Ali, the caliph’s 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 343 


brother, was defeated by him; but the son of the grand 
vizier resisted him so successfully, that, after a long 
contest, they thought it better to postpone the decis- 
ion till the next engagement. 

The day after this entertainment, nothing was talked 
of in all Bagdad but the handsome, rich, and valiant 
stranger. All who had seen him, nay, those whom he 
had defeated, were in raptures at his noble bearing, and 
they talked of him, in his own hearing, in Kalum Beg’s 
shop. The only regret of the people was that no one 
knew where he lived. 

The next time, he found in the fairy’s house a still 
handsomer suit and still more costly weapons. This 
time half Bagdad had assembled, and the caliph himself 
was witnessing the spectacle from a balcony. He too 
expressed his admiration for Almansor, and, at the ter- 
mination of the games, hung a medal round his neck, by 
a chain of gold, in token of his gratification. The natu- 
ral consequence of this second and more glorious vic- 
tory was, to excite the jealousy of the young men of 
Bagdad. ‘‘ Shall a stranger,’’ they said, ‘‘ come here 
to Bagdad, and rob us of glory and victory? It will 
disgrace us to have other cities boasting that’ there is 
no one among all the noble youths of Bagdad able to 
compete with this unknown champion.”’ And they 
resolved that at the next spectacle, as if by accident, 
five or six should attack him at the same time. 

This jealousy did not escape Said’s penetrating eye. 
He saw them clustering together in the corners, and 
whispering and pointing at him with angry gestures, 
and he felt that, except the caliph’s brother and the son 
of the grand vizier, there was no one of all his rivals 
but hated him deeply; and he had been lately much 
annoyed by the pointed questions addressed to him, 


344 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


such as, where he might be visited ; how he spent his 
time ; what things had pleased him in Bagdad; and the 
like. 

It was a strange coincidence, that the noble who 
showed towards Said-Almansor the greatest hostility, 
was no other than the man whom, some time previously, 
he had knocked down in front of Kalum Beg’s shop. 
Though Said had twice vanquished him in the tourna- 
ment, still this was no good ground for the excess of 
his antipathy, and Said began to fear he might have 
recognized him by his figure or his voice as the daunt- 
less shopman, —a discovery which would have exposed 
him to the scorn and fury of the whole city. The con- 
spiracy which his antagonists had devised was wrecked 
by his own sagacity and courage, and by the friendship 
which the brother of the caliph and the grand vizier’s 
son had conceived for him. When these two young 
nobles saw their friend attacked by five or six assail- 
ants who were striving either to unhorse or disarm 
him, they rushed to the rescue, and, scattering the 
crowd, threatened the young men, who had behaved so 
treacherously, with instant expulsion from the tourna- 
ment greund. 

_ For more than four months had Said thus astonished 

Bagdad by his skill in the use of arms, when one even- 
ing, as he was returning home, he overheard voices 
which struck him as familiar. Four men were walking 
before him with slow steps, apparently in deep consulta- 
tion. As Said came nearer, he recognized the dialect 
of the tribe of Selim, his desert protector, and at once 
suspected them to be plotting some robbery. His first 
impulse was to withdraw from their neighborhood; 
but, believing, on second thoughts, that he might be 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 345 


the means of preventing some crime, he crept closer, to 
overhear their conversation. 

‘The porter said expressly, the street to the right of 
the bazaar,”’ said one of the robbers. ‘He will go 
through there to-night with the grand vizier.” 

‘‘Good!” said a second. ‘I have no fears of the 
grand vizier; he is old, and no hero; but the caliph 
plays a good sword, and I will not trust him. Ten or 
twelve of his body-guard follow him, of course.” 

‘Not a soul,” said a third. ‘‘ Whenever he is seen 
in the streets at night he is always alone with his 
vizier or his head chamberlain. He must be ours this 
night ; but no harm must befall him.” 

‘‘T think our best plan is,’ said the first, ‘‘ to throw 
a noose over his head. We must not kill him, of course, 
for they would give small ransom for his body, and it 
would be a dangerous business getting even that.” 

‘“‘Then an hour before midnight !’’ said the robbers 
with one voice, and separated in various directions. 

Said was much startled by this atrocious project. 
He resolved instantly to hasten to the caliph’s palace, 
and warn him of his threatened danger. But, after 
running through several streets, the statemént of the 
fairy occurred to his mind, in which she had told him 
how cruelly he had been misrepresented to his majesty ; 
and reflecting that people would probably laugh his 
announcement to scorn, or hold it simply as an attempt 
to ingratiate himself with the caliph, he slackened his 
pace, and came to the conclusion to trust to his good 
sword, and rescue the caliph, himself, from the hands of 
the robbers. 

In consequence of this resolution, he did not return 
to Kalum Beg’s house, but seated himself on the steps 
of a mosque, to wait till dark. He then went past the 


346 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


bazaar to the street which the robbers had designated, 
and concealed himself behind a projecting corner. He 
had been standing there, perhaps an hour, when he 
heard two men coming slowly down the street. He 
took them at first for the caliph and his grand vizier, 
but was quickly undeceived ; for one of them clapped 
his hands, and instantly two others hurried noiselessly 
up the street from the bazaar. They whispered to- 
gether a few moments, and then separated again. 
Three concealed themselves not far from Said, and the 
fourth walked up and down the street. The night 
being very still and dark, Said was compelled to de- 
pend almost wholly on his sharp sense of hearing. 

A half hour had scarcely elapsed when footsteps 
were again heard coming from the bazaar. The robber 
must also have heard them, for he crept past Said in 
their direction. The steps came nearer, and already 
Said could distinguish two dark figures in the gloom, 
when the robber clapped his hands, and the three others 
rushed from their concealment. The men assaulted 
must also have been armed, for he could hear distinctly 
the clash of swords. He drew forth his Damascus 
blade, and, rushing out upon the robbers with the cry 
of ‘‘Down with the enemies of the great Haroun!” 
struck one of them to the ground with the first blow, 
and pressed vigorously upon two others, who were just 
on the point of disarming a man round whose body 
they had thrown a noose. He struck biindly at the 
cord to cut it asunder, but in so doing inflicted so 
severe a blow on the arm of one of the assailants that 
he cut off his hand at the wrist, and the wounded man 
fell on his knees with a cry of agony. The fourth, who 
had been hitherto fighting with another man, now turned 
upon Said; but the man around whom the cord had 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 34T 


been thrown no sooner saw himself at liberty than he 
drew his dagger and plunged it into the breast of one 
of the assassins. Seeing the fate of his comrades, the 
remaining robber threw away his sabre and fled from 
the spot into the darkness. 

Said was not long in uncertainty of the individual he 
had saved, for the taller of the two stepped up to him, 
and said: 

‘One of these events is as extraordinary as the other; 
this attack upon my life, and your unexpected aid and 
rescue. How knew you who I am? Were you ac- 
quainted with the purpose of these men?” 

‘“‘Commander of the Faithful,’? answered Said, “I 
was going this evening through the street El Malek, 
and came behind some men whose strange and mysteri- 
ous dialect I had once learned. They were talking of 
a project to take you prisoner, and to kill your worthy 
vizier. As it was too late to give you warning, I re- 
solved to go at once to the place of rendezvous to ren- 
der you all the assistance I could afford.’’ 

“Thank you,’’ said Haroun al Raschid. “This is 
no place to linger in; but take this ring, and bring it 
to-morrow morning to my palace. There we will talk 
further on your opportune assistance, and consider in 
what manner we can best reward you. Come, vizier, 
let us be off, for the rest of the gang may come.” 

Placing a ring on the youth’s finger, he tried to draw 
away the grand vizier; but the latter begged him to 
stay a moment longer, and, turning, handed a purse to 
the astonished lad, with these words: 

‘Young man, my lord the caliph can raise you to 
any rank he pleases, while I have little power to aid 
you; therefore, what little I can do is better done 
now than to-morrow morning. Take this purse. It is 


348 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


no equivalent to the gratitude I feel, and, therefore, my 
preserver, as often as you have a wish ungratified, come 
to me without hesitation.” 

Said ran home intoxicated with joy, but here his re- 
ception was far from cordial. Kalum Beg had been at 
first displeased, and then anxious, on account of his 
long absence ; for he thought how easily he might lose 
his handsome advertisement. He received him with 
bitter reproaches, and swore and raved like a madman. 
Said, who had caught a glimpse of the contents of his 
purse, and found it filled with broad gold pieces, and 
seeing, also, that he could now travel home, even with- 
out the caliph’s assistance, returned his master as good 
as he sent, and gave him to understand bluntly that he 
would not remain with him another hour. Kalum Beg 
was at first a good deal startled, but he soon broke out 
into a laugh of contempt, and said : 

“What! you dolt! you vagrant! you wretched 
scamp! Where will you find a shelter, if I withdraw 
my protection from you? Where will you get so much 
as a dinner, or a bed?”’ 

“You need not trouble yourself about that,’’ an- 
swered Said proudly. ‘‘ Take care of yourself, for you 
will never see me again.” 

He ran out of the house, and Kalum stared after him, 
speechless with astonishment. The next morning, after 
considering the matter carefully, he sent his porters out 
to seek everywhere for the fugitive. They hunted long 
to no purpose, but at length one of them came back 
and reported that he had seen Said the shopman come 
out of a mosque and enter a caravansary ; but that he 
was totally altered in appearance, and had on a hand- 
some cloak, a dagger and sabre, and a sumptuous tur- 
ban. 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 349 


When Kalum Beg heard this, he exclaimed, with 
many oaths: ‘‘ He has robbed me and dressed himself 
in his spoils. O, wretched man that] am!” He ran 
instantly to the head of the police, and, on his stating 
that he was a relation of Messour, the head chamber- 
lain, found no difficulty in obtaining police officers to 
arrest Said. Said was sitting in front of the caravan- 
sary, talking composedly with a merchant he had found 
there, about the journey to Balsora, when suddenly 
several men fell upon him, and, in spite of his resist- 
ance, bound his hands behind his back. He demanded 
their authority for this violence, and was told that it 
was done in the name of the police department and by 
his lawful master, Kalum Beg. At this moment, the 
little, hideous man stepped forward, and, heaping in- 
sults and abuse on him, felt in his pockets, and, with a 
yell of delight, drew out a large purse of gold. 

‘“‘Look! He has robbed me of all this money, the 
scoundrel! ’’ he cried; and the people, looking with 
horror at the prisoner, exclaimed : 

‘‘What! so young, so handsome, and yet so wicked! 
To the judge! to the judge! Let him have the basti- 
“nado!” 

_ They hurried him along, a prodigious crowd closing 
around him, shouting: 

‘Look! This is the handsome shopman of the ba- 
zaar! He has robbed his master and run away! He 
has stolen two hundred pieces of gold!” 

The judge received the prisoner with a menacing air. 
Said tried to speak, but the official commanded silence, 
and listened only to the little merchant. He showed 
him the purse, and inquired whether the gold had been 
stolen from him. Kalum Beg swore that it had been. 
But his perjury, though it helped him to the money, 

30 


350 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


did not aid him in reclaiming his handsome shopman, 
for the judge said: 

‘« By a law, which my all-powerful master the caliph 
has enacted within a few days, every theft which ex- 
ceeds in amount a hundred pieces of gold, and is per- 
petrated in the bazaar, is punished with banishment to 
a desolate island. This thief comes just at the right 
time ; he completes the number of twenty knaves of his 
sort, and to-morrow they will be all put on board a ves- 
sel and carried to sea.”’ 

Said was in despair. He implored the judge to listen 
to his story, and to permit him to speak only a single 
word with the caliph. But he found no favor. Kalum 
Beg, who now regretted his perjury, attempted to inter- 
pose in his behalf; but the judge answered : 

“You have your money, sirrah; go home and keep 
quiet, or I will fine you ten pieces of gold for contempt 
of court.” 

Kalum was silent, and the judge making a sign, Said 
was dragged away. 

They took him to a dark and damp prison. Nine- 
teen unhappy men lay about the room oh straw, and 
received him with harsh laughter, and imprecations on 
the judge and the caliph. Horrible as appeared his 
fate, frightful as was the thought of being transported 
to a barren island, he yet found some consolation in 
the reflection that he was to be released on the follow- 
ing morning from this loathsome prison. But he was 
grievously deceived in thinking that his condition would 
be bettered on board the ship. The twenty criminals 
were thrown together into the lowest hold, where it was 
impossible to stand upright; and there they struggled 
and fought among themselves with fury for the best 
places. 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 351 


The anchors were weighed, and Said wept many bitter 
tears, when the ship which was to carry him still further 
from his birthplace, began to move. Once a day only, 
a little bread and fruit and a draught of sweetened water 
was distributed among them, and the hold of the ship 
was so dark that it was necessary to bring lamps when- 
ever the prisoners took their food. Every two or three 
days one of them was found dead, and nothing but 
Said’s youth and excellent constitution enabled him to 
resist the unhealthiness of his watery prison. 

They had been at sea fourteen days, when one day 
the waves began to roar more loudly, and there 
was an unusual hurrying and running on board the 
ship. 

Said imagined that a storm was coming on, and found 
the thought inexpressibly pleasant ; for he hoped there- 
by to die. 

The ship was tossed about with increasing violence, 
and at length struck with a fearful crash. Shrieks and 
yells rose from the deck, and mingled with the howling 
of the tempest. These ceased at last, and at the same 
time one of the prisoners discovered that the water was 
pouring into the vessel: They beat fiercely at the hatch- 
ways above their heads, but no one answered them. 
The sea rushing in with increasing rapidity, they 
pressed with united strength against the hatches, and 
forced them open. 

They climbed the ladder, but found no one on the 
deck. The crew had made their escape in the boats. 
Most of the prisoners now abandoned themselves to 
despair, for the storm was rising, and the danger grow- 
ing momently moreimminent. They sat for several hours 
on the deck, making their last meal on the provisions 
which they found on board, when the tempest suddenly 


852 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


gained strength, and the ship was torn from the cliff on 
which she had till now stuck fast, and dashed into a 
thousand pieces. 

Said had grasped the mast, and when the vessel went 
to pieces clung to it with the energy of despair. The 
waves tossed him hither and thither, but he managed 
to keep himself above the surface. He swam for half 
an hour at the momentary peril of his life, when the 
pipe attached to the golden chain again fell from his 
girdle, and the thought occurred to him to try once 
more its magic virtues. Holding fast with one hand, 
with the other he set it to his mouth. The instant he 
blew, aclear, pure note rang out, and in a moment the 
storm went down, and the waves subsided as if oil had 
been poured on them. He looked about him with a 
lighter heart, to see if he could spy land in some direc- 
tion, when the mast under him began strangely to en- 
large and move, and, not a little to his terror, he 
perceived that he was riding on a huge dolphin. After 
a few moments, however, his presence of mind returned, 
and he then saw that the dolphin was swiftly and evenly 
pursuing an onward course; and, ascribing his miracu- 
lous rescue to the silver pipe and the benevolent fairy, 
he shouted his heartfelt thanks into the air. 

Swiftly as an arrow his marvellous steed bore him 
through the waves, and before evening he could dis- 
tinguish land, and saw a wide river, into which the dol- 
phin turned. While ascending the stream his speed 
was slackened ; and, to avoid exhaustion from hunger, 
Said, who knew from his recollection of old fairy stories 
how to use his magic instrument, drew out his pipe, 
and, blowing a loud blast, wished himself a good sup- 
per. The fish instantly halted, and up from the water 
rose a table, as dry as if it had been standing a week in 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 353 


the sun, and amply spread with delicious food. Said 
applied himself vigorously, for his provender during his 
imprisonment had been scanty and meagre, and, after 
heartily satisfying his appetite, expressed his thanks ; 
the table then sank down, and, stimulated by a kick in 
the side, the dolphin immediately resumed his onward 
course up stream. 

The sun was almost setting when in the dim distance 
Said caught a glimpse of a large city whose minarets 
seemed to beara strong resemblance to those of Bag- 
dad. The thought of returning to Bagdad was far from 
pleasant, but his confidence in the benevolent fairy was 
so great, that he felt convinced she would never again 
suffer him to fall into the hands of the infamous Kalum 
Beg. He saw on one side, about a mile from the city 
and close to the river, a magnificent country-seat, and 
to his great astonishment the dolphin headed in its 
direction. . 

On the roof of the villa stood several richly-dressed 
gentlemen, and a crowd of servants were gathered on 
the shore, all gazing at him and clapping their hands . 
in wonder. The dolphin halted at a flight of marble 
steps leading from the water to the terraces, and van- 
ished as soon as Said had set foot on the steps. At the 
same moment several servants hurried down, and, offer- 
ing him dry clothes, invited him, in the name of their 
lord, to come up. He dressed himself rapidly, and fol- 
lowed the servants to the roof, where he found three 
gentlemen, the tallest of whom came towards him cour- 
teously. 

‘‘Who art thou, mysterious youth,’ he inquired, 
‘‘who tamest the fishes of the sea as the skilful rider 
manages his charger? Art thou a magician, or a man 
like us?” 

30* 


354 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘« My lord,” answered Said, ‘if you will accor! me 
permission, I will relate to you the misery I have been 
through during the last two years.’’? He then began 
and told the three men his history from the moment 
when he left his father’s house in Balsora to his won- 
derful rescue from a watery death. He was frequently 
interrupted by exclamations of astonishment; and, as 
soon as he had ended, the master of the house said: 

‘‘T believe your story, Said. But you tell us that 
you won a chain in the tournament, and that the caliph 
gave you aring; can you show these ?”’ 

‘‘Here in my bosom I have preserved them both,’’ 
said the youth in reply, ‘‘ and would have parted with 
them only with my life; for I looked on it as the most 
glorious and splendid action of my life to have rescued 
the great caliph from the hands of his murderers.’”’ At 
the same time he drew forth the ring and chain, and 
handed them to his questioner. 

‘«By the beard of the Prophet, it is my ring!”’ ex- 
claimed the handsome nobleman. ‘‘Grand vizier, let 
us embrace our preserver.”’ 

Said thought himself dreaming when the two gentle- 
men embraced him; but, recovering his presence of 
mind, he threw himself to the ground and said, “ Par- 
don, pardon, Commander of the Faithful, that I have 
spoken thus freely in your presence, for you can be 
none other than Haroun al Raschid, the great Caliph 
of Bagdad!” 

‘‘He I am,’”’ answered Haroun, ‘and your friend. 
From this moment your misery shall cease. Follow me 
to Bagdad, remain near me, and be one of my most 
trusted friends ; for truly you showed on that night of 
peril that Haroun was not indifferent to you; and it is 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 355 


not every one of my most faithful servants that I should 
be willing to subject to the same tect.” 

Said thanked the caliph and promised to remain for- 
ever in his service, if he could be permitted first to make 
a journey to his father, who must needs be in great 
anxiety regarding his fate. This condition the caliph 
_ considered reasonable ; and, all mounting their horses 
soon after, they reached Bagdad before sunset. The 
caliph gave Said a suite of richly-furnished apartments 
in his own palace, and promised to build soon a hand- 
some house for his exclusive use. 

On the earliest information of this event, Said’s former 
companions in arms, the caliph’s brother and the grand 
vizier’s son, hastened to pay their respects. They em- 
braced him as their benefactor, and begged the favor 
of his friendship. But they were bewildered with sur- 
prise when he answered: ‘‘I have been your friend a 
long while ;’”’ and, drawing forth the chain which he 
had won as the prize of victory, reminded them of va- 
rious circumstances to prove his identity. They had 
never seen him otherwise than with a dark brown com- 
plexion and a long beard ; and it was only after he had 
told them the reasons of his disguise, and, calling for 
blunted weapons, proved by his dexterity that he was 
no other than Almansor, that they embraced him a sec- 
ond time with redoubled pleasure, and congratulated 
themselves on the acquisition of such a friend. 

On the following day, as Said was sitting near Ha- 
roun with the grand vizier, Messour the head chamber- 
lain entered the room and said: ‘‘ Commander of the 
Faithful, might I, if it be your pleasure to listen, crave 
a favor of your majesty ?”’ 

“‘T will hear you,”’ answered Haroun. 

‘My dear cousin, Kalum Beg, a famous merchant 


356 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


of the bazaar, stands without, may it please your 
majesty,’’ said the chamberlain, ‘‘and he has a singu- 
lar controversy with a man from Balsora, whose son 
was at one time in Kalum’s service. The youth subse- 
quently stole some of his master’s property, ran away 
to avoid punishment, and has not been seen since that 
time. The father seeks now to reclaim his son from my 
cousin, although he has him not. The latter therefore 
begs the favor that, by the force of your majesty’s great 
wisdom and penetration, you will decide between this 
man from Balsora and himself.’ 

‘I will decide,’ answered the caliph. ‘‘ Let your 
excellent cousin come to the hall of justice with his 
adversary in half an hour.” 

After Messour had expressed his thanks and taken 
his departure, Haroun said:- ‘‘ This must be your father, 
Said; and, since fortunately I know already the facts 
in the case, my judgment shall equal Solomon’s for 
wisdom. You, Said, hide yourself behind the curtain 
of my throne till I call you, and you, grand vizier, have 
the wicked police judge instantly summoned. I shall 
need him in this investigation.” 

Both did as he commanded. Said’s heart beat loudly 
when he saw his father, pale and feeble, enter the hall 
with tottering step; and the soft, confident laugh, 
with which Kalum Beg whispered something to his 
cousin the head chamberlain, made him so angry that 
he longed to rush out from his place of concealment, and 
fall upon him then and there, for he had this scoundrel 
alone to thank for all his suffering and misery. 

The hall was thronged with men who had come to 
hear the caliph give judgment. The grand vizier, after 
the Commander of the Faithful had taken his seat on the 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 357 


throne, commanded silence, and asked who appeared as 
a complainant before his lord the caliph. 

Kalum Beg stepped forward with a brazen front, and 
said: ‘‘ Several days ago I was standing before the door 
of my shop in the bazaar, when a crier, with a purse of 
gold in his hand, and this man following, came through 
the market, shouting, ‘ A purse of gold to him who can 
give information concerning Said of Balsora!’ This 
Said had been in my service, and I of course called out, 
‘Here, this way, friend. I can earn that purse.’ There- 
upon this man, who is now so embittered against me, 
approached, and inquired what I knew. I answered: 
‘Perhaps you are his father, Benezar?’ and, on his 
assenting, I told him how I had found the young man 
in the desert, saved and taken care of him, and brought 
him to Bagdad. In the joy of his heart he presented 
me with the purse. But when this crazy fellow hears 
that his son had been in my employ, that he had played 
me a knavish trick, and had afterwards disappeared, he 
refuses to believe what I say, torments my life out for 
several days past, and demands back his money and his 
son, neither of which will I give him, for the money 
belongs to me for the information I gave him, and his 
rascally son I have never been able to find.”’ 

It was now Benezar’s turn. He described how vir- 
tuous his son had always been, and declared that he 
never could have been so wicked as to steal; and he 
called upon the caliph to investigate the matter to the 
bottom. 

‘“‘T hope,” said Haroun, “ that you did your ies and 
denounced the theft, Kalum Beg ?”’ 

“‘ Certainly, your majesty,’’ cried Kalum with a laugh. 
‘I carried him immediately before the police judge —”’ 

‘‘Summon the police judge,” the caliph commanded. 


358 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


To the astonishment of all, the judge instantly ap- 
peared, as if by magic. The caliph demanded whether 
he had any recollection of this affair, and he replied that 
he had. : 

‘‘Did you examine the young man? Did he confess 
the theft?’ asked Haroun. 

‘No, your majesty ; he was so obdurate as to refuse 
to confess to any one but your majesty,”’ answered the 
judge. 

‘“‘T do not remember to have seen him,’’ said the 
caliph. 

‘‘Of course, your majesty, why should you? I could 
send youacrowd of such rascals every day, all anxious 
to speak with your majesty.” 

‘“You know that my ear is open to every man,” 
answered Haroun; ‘“ but probably the proofs of the 
theft were so clear that it was unnecessary to bring 
the young man before me. You had, of course, wit- 
nesses to prove that the gold stolen from you was 
your property, Kalum?”’ 

‘‘ Witnesses ?’’ answered the merchant, turning pale. 
‘“No, I had no witnesses, and you are aware, Com- 
mander of the Faithful, that one gold piece is just like 
another. Where could I get witnesses to show that 
these particular gold pieces were taken from my 
coffers ? ”’ 

‘*And how did you know, then, that exactly that 
amount belonged to you?” asked the caliph. 

‘By the purse in which they were,’’ answered 
Kalum. 

‘‘ Have you the purse with you ?”’ demanded Haroun. 

‘Here it is,’? said the merchant, drawing out the 
purse and handing it to the grand vizier to pass to the 
caliph. 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 359 


No sooner had the vizier taken it, than he exclaimed 
with well feigned astonishment: ‘‘ By the beard of 
the Prophet! Do you say this purse is yours, you dog? 
The purse belongs to me, and I gave it with a hundred 
pieces of gold to a brave young man who rescued me 
from « great peril.” 

‘‘Can you swear to this? ”’ inquired the caliph. 

‘“As surely as that I shall hereafter get to para- 
dise,’”’ answered the vizier, ‘‘for my daughter made it 
with her own hands.” 

‘“‘Indeed!’’ cried Haroun, “and did you judge 
falsely, police justice? Why did you believe that the 
purse belonged to this merchant ?”’ 

‘‘He swore it,’’ answered the judge, timidly. 

‘So you swore falsely ?’’ thundered the caliph to 
Kalum, who stood pale and trembling before him. 

“Allah! Allah!’ cried he. ‘I have nothing to 
allege against the grand vizier, for he is a reliable, 
honest man. But, ah! the purse was mine, notwith- 
standing, and the good-for-nothing Said stole it from 
me. . I would give a thousand tomans if he were now 
on the spot.” 

“What did you do with this Said?”’ asked the 
caliph. ‘‘Inform us whither we must send for him.” 

‘T sent him to a desolate island,” replied the police 
judge. 

“©O, Said! my son, my son!” cried the unfortunate 
father, weeping. 

‘Then he confessed the crime?”’ asked Haroun. 

The judge turned pale. He rolled his eyes in every 
direction, and stammered at last: ‘If I recollect 
rightly — he did.” 

‘‘Then you are not certain?’’ continued the caliph 
in a terrible voice. ‘‘ We will learn from his own lips. 


360 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


Said, come forth ; and, Kalum Beg, pay down a thousand 
pieces of gold instantly, for he is here on the spot.” 

Kalum and the police justice thought they saw a 
ghost, and fell upon their knees, crying, ‘‘ Mercy! 
mercy!’ Benezar, half fainting with joy, rushed into 
the embrace of his long-lost son. The caliph continued 
with iron severity, ‘‘ Police judge, here stands Said. 
Did he confess his crime ?”’ 

‘““No, no!”’ howled the judge. ‘‘I listened only to 
Kalum’s testimony, because I knew that he was a man 
of standing.”’ 

‘‘ Have I appointed you a judge over all my subjects, 
that you should listen only to men of standing ? ”’ cried 
Haroun al Raschid, with noble indignation. ‘I banish 
you to a desolate island for ten years; there you can 
reflect on justice. And you, miserable wretch, who 
revive the dying, not to save, but to reduce them to 
slavery, you shall pay, as I have already said, a thousand 
tomans, according to your offer if Said would appear 
to testify.” 

Kalum congratulated himself at escaping from the 
difficulty so cheaply, and was beginning to thank the 
lenient caliph. But the latter went on: ‘For the false 
oath concerning the hundred pieces of gold, you shall 
receive a hundred blows on the soles of your feet. For 
the rest, Said himself shall choose whether he will take 
your whole shop as his property, and you as his porter, 
or will be contented with ten pieces of gold for every 
day which he spent in your service.”’ 

‘‘Let the scoundrel go, your majesty!’ cried the 
youth. ‘1 will have nothing which belongs to him.”’ 

“No,” replied Haroun, “it is my will that you be 
recompensed. I decide in your stead for the ten gold 


THE FORTUNES OF SAID. 361 


pieces, and you shall reckon how many days you were 
in his claws. And now, away with these wretches.” 

They were borne off, and the caliph led Benezar and 
Said into another hall. There he described to the 
happy father his wonderful rescue through Said’s coura- 
geous interference, interrupted occasionally, though not 
disagreeably so, by*the howls of Kalum Beg, who was 
receiving his hundred pieces of gold on the soles of his 
feet in the court-yard of the palace. 

The caliph invited Benezar to live with Said, in Bag- 
dad, under his protection. He accepted the offer, 
returning home once more to collect together his pos- 
sessions. Said lived like a prince in the palace which 
the grateful caliph caused to be built for him. The 
caliph’s brother and the son of the grand vizier were 
his most intimate friends, and, ‘‘ O, that I might be as 
valiant and as fortunate as Said, the son of Benezar !”’ 
grew to be a byword among the people of Bagdad. 





“‘ With such entertainment as this, sleep would never 
visit my eyes, if I had to stay awake half a dozen 
nights,’ said the compass-maker, when the courier had 
ended. ‘I have often had proof of this before. It was 
80 some years ago, when I was journeyman to a bell- 
founder. My master was a rich man, and no niggard, 
and for this reason we were not a little surprised on 
one occasion, when we had a large job in hand, to see 
how, contrary to his usual habits, he seemed to have 
suddenly grown as stingy as a Jew. We had been cast- 
ing a bell for a new church, and we journeymen and 
apprentices were obliged to sit by the furnace all night 
and watch the fire. We expected, of course, that the 
master would tap his big cask and give us some of his 
best wine. Far from it. He passed round a draught 

31 


362 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


of water every hour or so, and beguiled the time by 
telling us all sorts of stories picked up in his wander- 
ings ; when he ended, the turn came to the journeymen, 
and so on round the circle, and not one of us felt 
sleepy, so interested had we become in the adventures 
related. Before we knew it, it was day, and we then 
saw the master’s prudence in ke@ping us awake by 
story-telling. When the bell was finished, he was no 
longer sparing of his wine, but brought out in abun- 
dance what he had wisely saved the night before.’ 

‘‘ He was a sensible man,’’ said the student. ‘ For 
keeping away sleep nothing is so efficacious as conver- 
sation, no doubt. That is the reason why I chose not 
to be alone to-night, for I should have assuredly fallen 
asleep by eleven o’clock.”’ 

‘‘Country-people are well aware of this fact,’’ said 
the courier. ‘‘ When the women spin, in the long winter 
evenings, they never stay at home alone, for they know 
if they do they will drop asleep over their work, but 
they get together in what they call their lamp-rooms, 
and tell stories while working in company.”’ 

“‘Yes,’’ interposed the carrier, ‘‘ and their stories 
are enough sometimes to frighten a man’s hair off his 
head, for they tell of fiery spectres who wander round 
the earth, and kobolds wno make a racket in your 
chamber at night, and ghosts who drive men and cattle 
crazy.”’ 

‘Then they do not appreciate the highest kind of 
enjoyment, in my opinion,” said the student. ‘‘ Noth- 
ing is so disagreeable to me as ghost-stories.”’ 

“Well, I think exactly the contrary,’”’ cried the 
compass-maker. ‘‘I enjoy a genuine ghost-story from 
the bottom of my heart. It is just like a storm outside 
when you sleep under the roof. You hear the rain- 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 363 


drops fall tick, tack, tick, tack, on the tiles, while you 
are feeling snug and comfortable in your warm bed. 
Just so, you feel perfectly safe and easy, when you hear 
a good ghost-story by lamplight, among friends.” 

‘‘But afterwards?’ said the student. ‘‘ Will not a 
person with a strong belief in ghosts shudder when 
he finds himself alone and in darkness? Will he not 
call up all the horrors he has been hearing? I grow 
angry to this day over ghost-stories, when I think 
of my childhood. I was an active, restless child, and 
more wakeful than my nurse liked. She knew no other 
means of quieting me than by exciting my terrors. 
She told me all sorts of horrible stories of witches and 
evil spirits who played their pranks in my father’s 
house, and, if a cat happened to make a noise outside, 
she would whisper in my ear, in a tone of horror: ‘Do 
you hear that, child? That is the dead man going up 
and down our steps. He carries his head under his 
arm ; his eyes shine like lanterns ; he has claws instead 
of fingers; and when he catches anybody in the dark, 
he twists his neck.’ ”’ 

The men laughed at these reminiscences, and the 
student continued: ‘‘I was too young to understand 
that all this was rank falsehood. I was not afraid 
of our great stag-hound, who tumbled my playmates 
into the sand, but whenever I found myself in the dark, 
I used to shut my eyes with terror, lest the dead man 
would creep out upon me. It went so far at last that 
I was afraid to stir outside the house after dark without 
alight. How many times my father has punished me 
for this cowardice! For a great while I could not free 
myself from these childish terrors, for which my foolish 
nurse was wholly to blame.” 

‘‘It is very wrong,’ said the courier, ‘‘to fill the 


364 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. . 


minds of children with such notions. I assure you, 
I have known brave, dauntless men, huntsmen, not 
afraid of the devil himself, who, when they were lying 
in wait at night for poachers, would suddenly lose 
all courage ; taking every tree for a frightful spectre, 
every bush for a witch, and a couple of glowworms 
for the eyes of some monster about to spring out on 
them.” 

“And I think entertainments of this sort injurious, 
not only for children, but for grown persons also,’’ con- 
tinued the student. ‘‘ What sensible man will occupy 
himself with the doings and sayings of creatures which 
exist only in the minds of fools ?, The greatest harm 
these fables do is among country people. This class 
believes firmly in this sort of narrative, and the belief 
is fostered in their spinning-rooms and taverns, where 
they sit in crowded groups and tell in a mysterious voice 
the most dreadful horrors.’ 

‘‘Yes, sir,’’? answered the carrier, ‘you are right. 
Many a misfortune has happened through such stories, 
and my own sister miserably perished in consequence 
of one of them.” 

‘‘What! by one of these ghost-stories?”’ cried his 
companions, surprised. 

‘“‘From no other cause,’’ said the carrier. ‘‘In the 
village where my father lived it is customary for the 
women to meet together in the long winter evenings to 
spin. The young farmers come in afterwards and tell 
stories. It happened one evening that they had been 
talking of apparitions; and the young men told of an 
old grocer who had been dead ten years, and could find 
no rest in his grave. Every night he threw off the 
earth, and, rising from his grave, crept, coughing as he 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 365 


used to do in life, to his shop, where he weighed out his 
sugar and coffee, muttering to himself as he did so: 


© Three-quarters in the dead of night 
Will make a pound at morning light.’ 


“* Several declared they had seen him, and the women 
began to grow frightened. But my sister, a girl of six- 
teen, wishing to be thought more courageous than the 
rest, said, ‘I disbelieve the whole story. A man once 
dead never comes back again.’ This she said, alas, 
without entire conviction, for she had often felt a terror 
at the report before now. Thereupon one of the young 
people said to her, ‘If you think so, of course you are 
not afraid of him. His grave is only two steps from 
poor Catharine’s, who died lately. Try it once; go to 
the church-yard and pluck a flower from Catharine’s 
grave, and, if you bring it to us, we will believe that 
you have no fears of the old grocer.’ 

‘« My sister, ashamed to be laughed at by the others, 
answered : ‘QO, that is a trifle! What flower will you 
have ?’ 

“«¢ Tt is the only place in the village where white roses 
grow; bring us a bunch of them,’ answered one of her 
companions. 

‘« She rose and left the room, all the men praising her 
pluck, but the women shaking their heads and saying 
they hoped no harm would come of it. My sister went 
to the church-yard. The moon was shining brightly, 
and twelve o’clock sounded from the tower, as, with a 
shudder, she opened the church-yard gate. 

‘‘She stumbled over many a familiar hillock, and her 
heart throbbed with rising terrors the nearer she came 
to Catharine’s white roses and the grave of the spectral 
grocer. 

31* 


366 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘‘She reached the spot, and, trembling from head to 
foot, knelt and plucked the flowers. Suddenly her ears 
caught a sound in her neighborhood. She looked round. 
Two steps from where she knelt she saw the earth up- 
heaving from a grave, and a ghastly figure slowly rise 
to view. It was an old, pale man, with a white nightcap 
on his head. My sister was horror-struck ; she looked 
once more to convince herself that she had seen aright. 
But when the tenant of the grave said, in a nasal voice, 
‘Good evening, damsel. Why so late?’ horror seized 
her. Springing up, she ran over the graves back to the 
house, told in a half-fainting state what she had seen, 
and became so weak that they were obliged to carry her 
to her home. It availed us little to learn on the follow- 
ing day that the sexton had been making a grave in that 
neighborhood, and had spoken to my poor sister. Before 
she could be told this she sank into a fever, of which 
she died within three days. The roses of her death- 
garland she had pulled with her own hands !”’ 

The carrier ended, and his eyes filled with tears, 
while the others gazed on him with the deepest sympa- 
thy. 

“‘ Alas! then the poor child died in the belief of hav- 
ing seen aspectre!’’ said the goldsmith. ‘‘ 1am reminded 
by the sad incident of a story which I may as well tell 
you, and which resulted in a similar catastrophe.” 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 367 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 
A TALE OF SCOTLAND. 


Ow one of the rocky islands off the coast of Scotland 
lived many years ago, in the utmost harmony, two fish- 
ermen. ‘They were both unmarried, were both without 
relatives, and supported themselves by their common 
labor. In age they were nearly equal, but in person 
and disposition resembled each other as little as an eagle 
and a seal. 

Donald Douglas was a short, thick-set man, with a 
broad fave and good-humored, laughing eyes, where care 
and sorrow seemed to be total strangers. He was 
sleepy and torpid as well as fat, and on him fell the 
cares of the household, cooking and baking, making 
nets for catching fish, and a large share of the cultiva- 
tion of the little field around the cottage. His compan- 
ion was diametrically his opposite ; tall and spare, with 
the eyes of a hawk, and a high, arched nose, he was 
known as the most energetic and successful fisherman, 
the most daring climber for birds, the busiest farmer, 
and the shrewdest merchant in Kirkwall; but, as his 
wares were good and his dealings rigidly honest, every 
one was ready to trade with him, and William Falke — 
so the country people called him — and his friend Donald 
Douglas, with whom the former, notwithstanding his 
avarice, ungrudgingly divided his hard-earned gains, 
made not only a comfortable livelihood, but were in a 
fair way to reach a decent independence. But indepen- 
dence merely was not the goal at which Falke’s avarice 
aimed ; he wished to be rich, —very rich ; and, as he had 
early discovered that wealth came but slowly by the 


368 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


common highway of industry, he formed the idea at 
last that he should obtain the object of his ambition by 
some unforeseen and sudden stroke of fortune; and, 
when once this belief had obtained possession of his 
vigorous mind, he found room in it for no other idea, 
and began to talk of the subject to Donald Douglas as 
if it were a matter of absolute certainty. The latter, 
who took for gospel everything Falke said, told it about 
among his neighbors, and the rumor soon spread that 
William Falke had either actually sold himself for money 
to the Evil One, or that he had had an offer to that end 
from the Prince of the Lower World. 

At first Falke laughed at these reports ; but gradually 
his mind adopted the idea that some spirit could disclose 
a treasure to him if he would, and he ceased to contra- 
dict his neighbors when they questioned him concerning 
his fatal bargain. He continued to follow his business, 
but with far less zeal than he had formerly shown, and 
often lost the time which he had been wont to devote 
to fishing and other useful labors, in idle search for 
means by which suddenly to obtain enormous riches. 
As ill luck would have it, moreover, as he was standing 
one day on the seashore, gazing with excited hopes 
over the restless ocean, a big wave rolled up to his 
feet, among a mass of loose seaweed and pebbles, a 
yellow bullet, —a bullet of precious gold. 

William stood like one entranced ; his hopes then had 
not been mere idle dreams, for the sea had given him 
gold, pure and precious gold, perhaps the relic of some 
heavy ingot which the waves had worn away against 
the ocean bed to the size of a rifle-ball. And now his 
imagination conceived the idea that a richly-freighted 
vessel must have been wrecked years ago on this shore, 
and that he was the one marked out by destiny to dis- 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 369 


cover its treasures. Henceforth this was his sole aim in 
life ; musing ever on his hopes, reserved in the presence 
of his closest friends, he neglected all other pursuits to 
spend his days and nights on this beach, where he 
passed the time in casting into the sea, not nets for 
fishes, but a peculiarly-constructed scoop for the recov- 
ery of sunken gold. But he found nothing save poverty, 
for his own earnings utterly ceased, and Donald’s indo- 
lent labors were not sufficient to support both. In his 
search for greater treasures vanished not only the gold 
he had obtained by chance, but by degrees the whole 
accumulations of the two friends. But, as in earlier 
times Douglas had trusted to Falke for the greater part 
of his support, so now he submitted without a murmur 
to his comrade’s profitless aberrations ; and it was pre- 
cisely this submissive patience which incited Falke still 
more to continue his unceasing search for treasure. 
And what urged him to increased exertions was, that, 
as often as he lay down to rest his weary limbs, his ear 
caught a whisper of strange words, whose meaning at 
the time he thought he understood, and which, never- 
theless, he could never remember on waking. To be 
sure, he knew not what connection this circumstance, 
strange as it was, had with his present efforts ; but, on 
a disposition like William Falke’s, every incident had 
its effect, and this mysterious whisper only helped to 
strengthen him in the belief that some great good for- 
tune was in store for him, which assumed in his uncul- 
tivated mind only the shape of a huge pile of gold. 

One day a tempest overtook him on the shore where 
he had found the golden bullet, and its severity drove 
him to take refuge in a neighboring cave. This cave, 
which the inhabitants called the Cavern of Steenfoll, 
consisted of a long subterranean passage, open to the sea 


370 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


by two wide mouths, through which the waves rushed 
with a roar like that of an angry lion. It was accessi- 
ble from the land only in one place, a crevice opening 
above, and was rarely visited by any but adventurous 
boys, while to its natural dangers was added the tradi- 
tion of its being haunted. William descended this 
crevice with much difficulty, and perched himself on a 
rock under an overhanging cliff, where, with the roaring 
waves at his feet and the storm above his head, he fell 
into his usual train of thought about the wrecked ship. 
Spite of all his inquiries, he had never been able to 
learn, even from the old residents of the place, of any 
shipwreck in the neighborhood. How long he sat 
there, he was himself unconscious ; but, waking at last 
from his dreamy abstraction, he discovered that the 
storm was over, and he was about to reiiscend to the 
upper air, when a voice issued from the deep, and the 
word ‘‘Carmilhan”’ fell distinctly on his ear. Terrified, 
he hastened to escape from the cave, and gazed down 
into the empty abyss. ‘‘Great God!”’ he cried, ‘ that 
is the word which has pursued me in my dreams. For 
the love of heaven, what can it mean? ’’ 

‘‘Carmilhan!’’ was sighed once more by the voice, 
as he took his last step out of the cavern, and he fled 
like a frightened doe to his hut. 

But William was no cowar?. The thing had come 
upon him unexpectedly ; but his thirst for gold was too 
strong to permit him to be deterred by an appearance of 
danger from following his perilous path. He _ perse- 
vered. Once, late in the night, while fishing for treas- 
ures by moonlight near the cavern of Steenfoll, his 
scoop was caught by something beneath the water. 
He pulled with all his force, but the mass remained im- 
movable. Meanwhile the wind increased, dark clouds 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 371 


enveloped the heavens, his boat rocked violently, and 
threatened to overset. But Falke was not to be di- 
verted from his purpose. He pulled and pulled, till 
the resistance at length ceased, and, feeling no weight, 
he supposed his rope had parted. But at the same 
instant that the clouds rolled together and concealed 
the moon, a round, dark mass appeared above the sur- 
face, and the eternal ‘‘ Carmilhan”’ sounded in his ear. 
He extended his arm to grasp the prize, but it vanished 
instantly in the pitchy darkness, and the fury of the 
gale compelled him to seek shelter under the neighbor- 
ing cliff. He fell asleep from mere exhaustion, to suf- 
fer anew in his dreams, through the power of his imagin- 
ation, the misery to which his restless thirst for riches 
subjected him during the day. 

When he awoke, the early beams of the rising sun 
were glancing from the now tranquil mirror of the 
ocean. He was on the point of starting again to 
resume his accustomed labors, when he noticed some- 
thing approaching in the distance. He soon per- 
ceived it to be a boat, and recognized in it a human 
figure ; and was startled to observe that it was advanc- 
ing with no assistance from sail or oar, and that its 
prow pointed steadily to the shore, although its occu- 
pant seemed unconscious of its course. 

The boat continued to advance, and at length stopped 
alongside of William’s skiff. The voyager proved to 
be a little, shrivelled man, in a suit of yellow linen, and 
tall red night-cap, who sat, with his eyes shut, as im- 
movable as any corpse. After shouting at and punch- 
ing him to no purpose, Falke was on the point of 
attaching a rope to the boat and towing it away, 
when the little man opened his eyes, and began to 


372 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


speak, in a tone which filled even the stout-hearted fish- 
erman with horror. 

“‘ Where am I?”’ he asked, in Dutch, drawing a deep 
sigh. 

Falke, who had learned a little of the langnage from 
Dutch herring fishermen, told him the name of the 
island, and inquired who he was, and what brought him 
there. 

““T come to look for the Carmilhan.”’ 

‘“«The Carmilhan! In God’s name, what is the Car- 
milhan ?’’ cried the excited fisherman. 

‘‘T answer not questions put to me in that form,” 
replied the spectre, with a shudder. 

“‘Well, well,’”’? shouted Falke, ‘what is the Carmil- 
han ?”’ 

‘‘The Carmilhan is now nothing ; but was once a fair 
ship, laden with more gold than vessel ever carried 
before.” 

‘Where did she sink, and when ?”’ 

‘A hundred years ago; where, I know not. I come 
to find the place, and to recover the lost treasure. If 
you will help me, we will share what we find.” 

‘‘ With all my heart. Tell me, what must I do?” 

‘A deed which requires courage. Just before mid- 
night you must go to the wildest and most desolate 
part of this island, taking with you a cow, which you 
must there slay, and have with you some one to wrap 
you in her fresh hide. Your companion must then lay 
you down, and leave you; and, before an hour goes 
by you will know where the treasures of the Carmilhan 
are lying.’’ 

‘In this way old Engrol perished, body and soul!” 
cried Falke, in terror. ‘‘ You are the Evil Spirit,’’ he 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 373 


continued, rowing rapidly away. ‘‘Go back to hell! 
I will have no dealings with you! ”’ 

The little being gnashed his teeth, and yelled curses 
on the fisherman; but the latter was soon out of his 
hearing, and, after rounding a cliff, beyond his sight. 
But the discovery that the evil one was seeking to 
avail himself of his lust for wealth, to entice him into 
his snares by a golden bait, had no effect in diverting 
the deluded man from his purpose. On the contrary, 
he even hoped to take advantage of the assistance, 
without placing himself in the clutches, of the fiend; 
so, continuing to dredge for gold off the desolate coast, 
he neglected utterly the independence which the rich 
fishing-grounds in the neighboring waters offered him, 
and sank with his companion day by day into deeper pov- 
erty. Yet, although this state of things was due solely 
to Falke’s infatuation, and the providing sustenance 
for both now fell wholly on Donald, the latter never 
complained. He showed him always the same devo- 
tion, the same confidence in his superior intellect, 
as in the times when his undertakings were successful 
and rational; and while this submissiveness greatly 
increased Falke’s misery, it stimulated him all the more 
to search for gold, hoping thereby to indemnify his 
generous friend for his deprivations. All this time, the 
devilish whisper, ‘‘Carmilhan,’”’ continued to pursue 
him in his slumbers. In short, want, hope and avarice 
drove him at last into a sort of madness; and he re- 
solved, tinally, to carry out what the demon had sug- 
gested to him, although he knew well that, according 
to tradition, he was surrendering himself by so doing to 
the powers of darkness. 

All Donald’s dissuasions were thrown away. Falke 
grew the more determined the more the other implored 

32 


374 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


him to desist ; and the good-natured fellow consented 
at last to accompany him, and help him carry out his 
plan. 

The hearts of both throbbed painfully as they fast- 
ened a rope round the horns of a fine cow, their last 
article of property, which they had raised from a calf, 
and which they had always refused to sell, from an 
unwillingness to see her pass into the hands of stran- 
gers. But the evil spirit, which had got the mastery 
over Falke, stifled all the better feelings of his heart, 
and Donald was unable to resist his will. 

It was the month of September, and the long nights 
of the Scottish winter had already begun. The even- 
ing clouds drove swiftly before the fierce night-winds ; 
deep shadows filled the valleys, and the wet turf-bogs 
and the turbid channels of the streams looked black and 
fearful as the mouths of hell. Falke strode in front, fol- 
lowed by Douglas, shuddering at his own boldness, and 
tears filling his eyes whenever he looked at the poor 
animal, going so confidingly to her speedy death, to 
be inflicted by the same hand which had fed her so 
many years. 

They reached, at last, a narrow, marshy vale, here 
and there overgrown with moss and heath and sprinkled 
with huge boulders, and which was rarely visited by the 
foot of man. A wild mountain chain encircled the spot, 
losing itself in the distance in the gray evening mist. 
They approached, with hesitating steps, a huge stone 
lying in the middle of this desolate spot, and from which 
a frightened eagle rose screaming into the air. The cow 
lowed mournfully, as if conscious of the horror of the 
place, and of her own approaching fate: and Donald 
turned aside to wipe away his streaming tears. He 
looked down the gorge which they had just climbed, 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 375 


and through which he could hear the distant surging of 
the sea; then upwards to the mountain peaks, on which 
an inky cloud had settled, and from which, at intervals, 
descended a hollow roar. When he again looked at 
Falke, the latter had bound the cow to a rock, and was 
standing, with upraised axe, to take the poor brute’s 
life. 

It was too much for his resolution. He fell upon his 
knees, wringing his hands. ‘‘ For God’s sake, Wil- 
liam,’ he exclaimed, in an agonizing tone, ‘‘ spare 
her! O, spare yourself and me! Have mercy on your 
own soul! Or, if you are resolved thus to tempt your 
Maker, wait till to-morrow, and obtain some other than 
our darling cow for this wicked sacrifice.” 

‘‘Donald, are you mad?” shrieked William, poising 
the axe above his head. ‘‘Shall I spare the cow and 
starve ?”’ 

“You shall not starve,’’ answered Donald firmly. 
‘‘ While I have hands you shall not starve. I will work 
for you from morning till night. But peril not the sal- 
vation of your soul, and let the poor brute live.” 

“Take the axe then, and cleave my head,” cried 
Falke in a despairing tone. ‘‘I go not from this place 
till I have obtained what I desire. Can you raise the 
treasures of the Carmilhan? Can your hands earn more 
than the barest necessities of life? But you can end 
my misery. Come, let me be the sacrifice !”’ 

‘‘ William, I plead not for myself, but for your eternal 
happiness! Alas! this is the altar of the Picts, and the 
sacrifice you bring belongs to hell.’ 

“‘T deny it,” cried Falke, with afranticlaugh. ‘‘Doug- 
las, you are mad, and make me mad! _ But here,” he 
continued, throwing away the axe, and taking his knife 


376 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


as if to plunge it into his heart; ‘‘ here, keep the cow 
at the price of your friend’s life! ’’ 

Donald was at his side in a moment, and, snatching | 
the weapon of death from his hand, seized the axe, and, 
swinging it round his head, brought it down with such 
force on the forehead of the loved animal that, without 
a shudder, it fell dead at its master’s feet. 

A flash of lightning, accompanied by a terrific peal 
of thunder, followed this hasty deed; and Falke stared 
at his friend with the look with which a man wonders 
at a child who has ventured to do what he himself lacks 
courage to attempt. Douglas, however, seemed neither 
terrified by the thunder nor disconcerted by the bewil- 
dered gaze of his companion, but bent over the cow 
without a word, and began to take off its hide. When 
Falke had recovered his composure, he helped him in 
the operation, but with a reluctance as visible as he had 
previously shown anxiety. Meanwhile the tempest had 
increased in fury, the thunder echoed in the mountains, 
and frightful flashes of lightning illuminated the scanty 
herbage of the defile, while the wind, which had not yet 
reached this altitude, filled the lower valleys with its 
wild howling. Both men found themselves drenched to 
the skin by the time they had finished stripping off the 
hide. They spread it out on the ground, and Donald 
bound Falke firmly into it. When this was done the 
poor man for the first time broke the prolonged silence, 
and, looking down compassionately on his friend, asked 
in a trembling voice: 

‘Can I do anything more for you, William ?”’ 

‘‘ Nothing more!” answered Falke. ‘‘ Farewell!” 

‘‘Farewell!’’ replied Donald. ‘God protect you, 
and pardon you as I do!”’ 

These were the last words which Falke heard from 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 377 


him, for the next moment he had disappeared in the 
increasing darkness. At the same time, one of the 
most violent tornadoes William had ever seen broke 
upon him. It began with a flash of lightning, which 
showed him not only the peaks and cliffs in his immedi- 
ate neighborhood, but the valley below him, and the 
raging sea, and the rocky islands scattered about the 
bay, among which he thought he caught a glimpse of a 
large, dismasted ship, which vanished again instantly 
in the pitchy darkness. The claps of thunder were 
absolutely deafening. A large mass of rock from the 
cliffs above rolled down from the mountain, narrowly, 
missing him. The rain fell in such torrents that, in a 
few minutes, it had overflowed the valley with a deep 
flood, which soon rose to Falke’s shoulders; and, had 
not Donald fortunately laid him with the upper part of 
his body resting on a hillock, he would have been 
speedily drowned. The water continued to rise, and 
the more Falke strove to release himself from his peril- 
ous position, the closer did the moist hide embrace him 
in its folds. In vain he shouted for Donald, — his friend 
was far away. He dared not call on God in his neces- 
sity, and a shudder convulsed his frame when he at- 
tempted to supplicate the being to whose power he felt 
himself given over. 

The water had already risen above his shoulders ; 
already it was moistening his trembling lips. ‘‘ God in 
heaven! I am lost!’’ he shrieked, as he felt the flood 
meet above his face. But at this moment a sound like 
that of a neighboring waterfall fell faintly on his ear, 
and his mouth was again uncovered. The torrent had 
forced itself a passage through its rocky barriers. The 
rain moderating at the same time, and the darkness of 
the clouds lifting a little, his despair was somewhat 

32* 


378 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


mitigated, and a beam of hope shone in upon his soul. 
But, spite of his exhaustion from a struggle like that of 
death, and his intense desire to escape from his impris- 
onment, the object of his desperate ambition had not yet 
been attained, and, with the disappearance of immedi- 
ate danger, covetousness returned in all its strength. 
Satisfied that to obtain his wishes he must submit pa- 
tiently to his fate, he held his peace, and soon fell into 
a deep sleep from cold and exhaustion. 

He had slept perhaps a couple of hours, when, a 
cold wind blowing across his face, and a sound like that 
of approaching waves, roused him from his oblivion. 
The sky had again grown dark. A flash, like that 
which had preceded the first tempest, lighted up once 
more the surrounding landscape, and he again thought 
he caught a glimpse of the foreign vessel hanging for a 
moment on a lofty wave, close by the cliffs of Steenfoll, 
and then sinking suddenly into the abyss. He con- 
tinued to gaze intently after the phantom, for incessant 
flashes now lighted up the sea, when a mountainous bil- 
low rushed up the valley, and dashed him with such 
force against a rock that he lost his senses. When he 
came to himself, the storm had passed away and the 
sky was clear, though the lightning still played at inter- 
vals. He was lying at the foot of the mountain range 
enclosing the valley, and felt himself so shattered that 
he could scarcely move. He heard where he lay the 
subdued murmur of the surf, seemingly mingled with a 
solemn melody like church-music. The tones were at 
first so faint that he thought them a delusion of his 
senses. But nearer and clearer they came, and it 
seemed to him at length he could distinguish the music 
of a psalm which he had heard the summer before on 
board a Dutch herring-boat. 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 379 


At last he could make out voices, and thought he 
recognized the words of the song. The voices were 
now in the valley below, and working himself along 
with great difficulty to a stone, on which he laid his 
head, he perceived a procession of human beings mov- 
ing in his direction. Their faces showed signs of 
grief and misery, and their garments seemed to drip 
with water. They were now at no great distance, and 
their music ceased. At their head went several musi- 
cians, followed by a number of sailors, and behind came 
a tall, powerful man, in an antiquated, gold-embroidered 
dress, a sword by his side, and in his hand a thick 
Spanish cane with a golden head. At his left walked a 
negro boy, handing his master from time to time a long 
pipe, from which he drew in several solemn draughts of 
smoke, and strode on. He drew himself up to his full 
height before Falke, and other less sumptuously dressed 
men arranged themselves on either side, all with pipes 
in their hands. Other persons followed these, among 
whom were several women, some of whom carried little 
children in their arms, or led them by the hand, and all 
in handsome but old-fashioned garments. A crowd of 
Dutch sailors closed the procession, each holding be- 
tween his teeth a short, black pipe, which he smoked in 
gloomy silence. 

The fisherman looked with terror on this singular 
assemblage, but the expectation of what was to ensue 
sustained his courage. They stood around him for a 
long time, and the smoke from their pipes rose in a 
cloud above their heads. The crowd continued to close 
up on Falke, and thicker and thicker poured the clouds 
from their mouths and pipes. Falke was a bold, deter- 
mined man; he had braced himself for something super- 
natural; but when he saw this mysterious group press- 


880 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


ing slowly upon him, as if to crush him with their 
weight, his courage fell, the sweat rolled from his brow, 
and he thought he should die of terror. But imagine 
his horror when, turning his eyes, he saw the yellow 
dwarf at his head, sitting stark and stiff, as he had 
looked when he first saw him, but now, as if in ridicule 
of the whole assemblage, with a lighted pipe between 
his lips. In the deadly terror which now seized him, 
he shouted to the principal figure : 

‘Tn the name of him you serve, who are you? What 
do you require of me?”’ 

The tall figure took three pulls at his pipe, more 
solemnly than before, and, handing it to his servant, 
answered : : 

‘“‘T am Alfred Franz van der Swelder, captain of the 
ship Carmilhan of Amsterdam, lost with all its crew on 
this rocky coast on its return from Bat»via, These are 
my Officers, these my passengers, and those yonder my 
brave sailors, who all perished with me. Why have 
you summoned us from our dwelling below the sea? 
Why do you disturb our rest?” 

‘‘T would know where lie the treasures of the Carmil- 
han ?”’ 

‘At the bottom of the sea.”’ 

‘¢ Where ?”’ 

‘In the cavern of Steenfoll.”’ 

“How shall I obtain them?” 

‘« A goose dives in the shallows after a herring. Are 
the treasures of the Carmilhan worth less?” 

‘‘How much of them shall I recover? ’’ 

“¢ More than you can spend.” 

The yellow dwarf grinned, and the whole group burst 
into loud laughter. 

‘‘ Have you finished ?”’ asked the captain. 


THE CAVERN OF STEENFOLL. 381 
‘“‘Thave. Farewell!” 

‘Farewell, till we meet again! ’’ answered the Dutch- 
man, and turned to go. 

The musicians placed themselves in front, and the 
procession moved away in the same order in which it 
came, while the solemn song, which they had sung while 
approaching, grew gradually fainter in the distance, till 
it lost itself in the murmur of the surf. Falke now put 
forth his last remaining strength, and succeeded at 
length in liberating one arm, with which he untied the 
cords, and at last extricated himself wholly from the 
hide. He hurried home without turning his head, and 
found poor Donald lying senseless on the ground. 
He brought him to his senses with much difficulty, and 
the good fellow wept aloud for joy at seeing alive the 
friend whom he had supposed lost forever. This 
gleam of happiness quickly vanished when he learned 
from him the desperate undertaking he was now re- 
solved on. 

‘‘T would rather perish, body and soul, than endure 
longer these naked walls, this abject wretchedness. 
Follow me or not, —I go.’”’ With these words, Falke 
seized a torch, and, winding a rope round his waist, 
hastened away. Donald followed him as quickly as he 
could, and found him already standing on the precipice 
on which he had in former times found shelter from the 
storm, and about to let himself down by the rope into the 
black and roaring abyss. Finding that his dissuasions 
had no influence on the unhappy maniac, he made ready 
to follow him down; but Falke ordered him to remain 
above and hold the cord. With frightful exertion, for 
which only the maddest avarice could have given him 
strength and courage, Falke clambered into the abyss, 
and stood at last on a projecting rock under which 


382 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the black and foam-streaked billows rushed thunder- 
ing in. 

He looked anxiously around, and saw at length some- 
thing shining dimly beneath the water. He laid down 
his torch, and, leaping in, grasped some heavy object, 
which he succeeded in raising. It was an iron chest 
filled with gold pieces. He told his companion what 
he had found, but turned a deaf ear to his earnest en- 
treaties to be satisfied with his success and reiiscend. 
Falke thought that this was but the first fruits of his long 
and arduous toils. He again sprang in. A loud peal 
of scornful laughter sounded through the cavern, and 
William Falke was never seen again ! 

Donald went home alone, an altered man. The 
shocks which his feeble brain had received destroyed 
his mind. He left everything to go to ruin, and wan- 
dered about day and night, gazing vacantly around, an 
object of pity and sympathy to all his former friends. 
One of the fishermen insists that he recognized William 
Falke one stormy night standing on the shore among the 
crew of the Carmilhan. On the same night vanished 
also Donald Douglas. 

He was sought for in every direction without success. 
Tradition says, however, that he has often been seen 
since standing with Falke among the men of the spectre- 
ship, which since that time has annually been visible in 
the cavern of Steenfoll. 





‘Midnight is long passed,” said the student, when 
the goldsmith had ended his story. ‘‘There can be no 
further danger; and for my part I feel so sleepy that I 
advise all to go to bed, and sleep without further alarm.”’ 

“T’ll not trust the rogues before two o’clock,’’ an- 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 383 


swered the courier. ‘‘ The proverb says, you know, 
‘From eleven till two thieves mischief do.’ ”’ 

‘‘T agree with you,’’ observed the compass-maker. 
‘«When a man means to take you at a disadvantage, no 
time is so suitable as after midnight. But why cannot Mr. 
Student, here, go on with the story he left unfinished ? ”’ 

‘T have no objection,” said the student. ‘ But our 
friend the courier has not heard the beginning of it.’’ 

‘‘Never mind that,” said the courier; ‘‘I’ll try to 
guess at it from the conclusion.” 

‘Very well, then,’”’ said the student ; and was about 
to recommence, when he was interrupted by the barking 
of a dog, and all held their breaths to listen. At the 
same moment one of the countess’ servants rushed into 
the room, and told them hurriedly that ten or twelve 
armed men were approaching the tavern at the side. 

The courier seized his rifle, the student his pistols, 
the journeymen grasped their sticks, and the carrier 
drew a long knife from his pocket. Thus prepared, they 
stood and gazed uneasily in each others’ faces. 

“Let us go to the head of the stairs,’’ said the stu- 
dent. ‘‘ Two or three of these villains shall die, at any 
rate, before we are overpowered.”’ At the same time 
he gave the compass-maker his second pistol, and rec- 
ommended him to reserve his fire till his own pistol had 
been discharged. They placed themselves at the stairs ; 
the student and the courier occupied their breadth, the. 
valiant compass-maker stood at their side, bending over 
the balustrade and pointing his pistol down the centre of 
the flight, while the carrier and the goldsmith stood be- 
hind them, ready to do their part in case of a conflict of 
managainst man. They stood for some minutes in silent 
expectation, till at length a noise of opening the front 
door reached their ears, and they thought they could 


384 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


make out the whispering of several voices. They heard 
soon after the footsteps of a number of men approach- 
ing, and then mounting the stairs, and at the turn three 
men came into view, who were certainly unprepared for 
the reception which awaited them, for, no sooner had 
they appeared round the central pillar, than the courier 
cried in a steady voice: ‘‘ Halt! One step further, and 
you are dead men! Our pistols are loaded, friends, and 
our aim is good.” 

The robbers hastily retreated to consult with the 
others below. One of them came back shortly and said, 
“‘Gentlemen, it would be folly in you to sacrifice your 
lives, for we are numerous enough to exterminate you. 
Retire, gentlemen, and none of you shall- suffer the 
slightest injury. We will not rob you of the value of a 
farthing.”’ 

‘‘ What is your purpose, then ?”’ retorted the student. 
‘Think you we will trust men of your stamp? Never! 
If you need anything of ours, come and take it, in God’s 
name ; but IJ shall fire at the forehead of the first man 
who ventures to turn that corner, and I promise him he 
shall never have the headache again.’’ 

“‘Surrender the lady to us, then, voluntarily,” an- 
swered the robber. ‘‘ Nothing shall happen to her; we 
will merely take her to a place of safety, and her people 
shall be allowed to ride back and notify the count that 
he can obtain her release for twenty thousand florins.”’ 

“Are we dogs, that you make such base proposals to 
us ?”’ cried the courier, foaming with rage, and cocking 
his rifle. ‘‘I shall count three, and shoot you at the 
third, unless you instantly retire. One, two—”’ 

‘Halt !’’ shouted the robber in a voice of thunder. 
“Ts it your custom to fire at an unarmed man who is 
talking with you peacefully? Foolish men! You can 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 385 


shoot me dead if you please; but here stand twenty 
of my comrades ready to revenge my death. How does 
it benefit your countess if you are slain? Believe what 
Isay. If she surrenders without resistance she shall 
be treated with all possible respect; but, if you do not 
uncock your weapons before J count three, it will fare 
hardly with you. One, two, three! ”’ 

“These hounds are not to be trifled with,’’ whispered 
the courier, obeying the robber’s command. ‘I care 
little for my own life, but if I shoot one of these 
wretches they might ill-use the countess my mistress. 
I will consult with her ladyship. Give us,” he added 
in a louder voice, ‘‘a halfhour’s truce to prepare the 
countess for this. It might kill her were she to learn 
it suddenly.”’ 

‘‘Granted,’’ answered the robber, at the same time 
posting six of his men to guard the stairs. 

The unlucky travellers, in a state of great excitement 
and agitation, followed the courier into the countess’ 
chamber. It lay so near the stairs, and the discussion 
had been so loud, that she had heard every word. She 
was pale, and trembled violently, but seemed resolved 
notwithstanding to submit without resistance to her fate. 

‘‘ Why should I venture needlessly the lives of so 
many brave men?” said she. ‘‘ Why call, for a useless 
resistance, on men who do not even know me? No; 
there is no other course left but to submit to these vil- 
lains.”’ 

Every one was affected by the courage and misfor- 
tunes of the heroic lady; and the courier vowed, with 
many tears, that he could never survive the disgrace. 
The student regretted aloud his six feet of stature. ‘If 
I were only half a head shorter,’’ said he, ‘‘ and had no 
beard, I should know exactly what todo. I should dress 

33 


386 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


myself in the countess’ clothes, and these wretches 
would discover their mistake too late to prevent her 
escape.” 

The lady’s misfortunes had made a deep impression 
on Felix. He felt towards her as he would have felt 
towards his own mother had he found her in this fearful 
position, and was willing and happy to sacrifice his life 
for hers. Hence, when the student made this last re- 
mark, a sudden thought flashed through his mind. He 
forgot every consideration of danger, and thought only 
of saving the lady from her perilous position. ‘‘ If this 
is all,’ said he, stepping forward with a blush, “ if it 
requires merely a beardless chin, a small body, and a 
stout heart, to rescue this honorable lady, perhaps she 
will condescend to accept my humble services. Madam, 
in God’s name, I entreat you to put on my coat, place 
my hat on your beautiful locks, take my bundle on your 
back, and assume the character of Felix the goldsmith.” 

The youth’s courage filled every one with surprise, 
and the courier embraced him in the deepest gratitude. 
“‘ My dear lad,’’ he exclaimed, ‘‘and will you do this? 
Are you willing to assume her dress and save her from 
these villains? God has sent you to our aid. But you 
shall not go alone. I will surrender myself with you ; 
and while I live they shall not harm a hair of your 
head.”’ 

‘‘T too will go with you,”’ cried the student. 

It consumed much time to persuade the countess to 
consent to this proposal. She could not bear to think 
that a perfect stranger should sacrifice his liberty, and 
perhaps his life, for her sake ; and she pictured to her- 
self the fearful revenge of the robbers on the young 
man, in case of their subsequent discovery of the deceit. 
But partly the young lad’s entreaties, and partly the 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. | 387 


others’ representations of the influences she could bring 
to bear to effect the release of her preserver, conquered 
her unwillingness at last. The courier and the other 
travellers accompanied Felix into the student’s chamber, 
where he speedily donned some of the clothes of the 
countess. _ The courier provided him with a few of 
the waiting-woman’s false curls, and a lady’s bon- 
net, and all present assured him that detection was 
impossible. The compass-maker vowed that, were he 
to meet him thus disguised in the street, he should take 
off his hat and make him a polite bow, never dreaming 
that he was paying his respects to his stout-hearted 
fellow-traveller. 

The countess meanwhile, with the aid of her waiting- 
woman, had supplied herself with a disguise from the 
goldsmith’s knapsack. The hat, pressed low on her 
forehead, the walking-staff in her hand, and the bundle, 
somewhat lightened of its former burthen, on her back, 
completely altered her appearance; and at any other 
time the allies would have laughed heartily at this- 
amusing masquerade. The newly-made journeyman 
thanked Felix with tears of gratitude, and promised 
him the most speedy assistance. 

“T have but one request to make,” said Felix in 
answer. ‘‘In this knapsack you will find a little box. 
Guard it with care, for should it be lost I should be 
miserable forever. I am taking it to my godmother, 
and —’”’ 

‘‘Gottfried, the courier, knows my castle,’’ inter- 
rupted the countess. ‘It shall be restored to you unin- 
jured. You will come for it I trust in person, noble 
youth, to receive the thanks of my husband and my- 
self.” 

Before Felix could answer, the harsh voices of the 


388 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


robbers sounded up the stairs, crying that the respite 
had passed, and everything was ready for the countess’ 
departure. The courier went down and told them his 
intention of accompanying the lady, stating that he pre- 
ferred to go with them wherever they carried her, rather 
than appear before the count without his mistress. 
The student also expressed a similar resolve. The rob- 
bers consulted together a moment over this proposal, 
and then assented, on the condition that the courier 
laid aside his arms. At the same time, they ordered 
the other travellers to remain quietly behind when the 
countess should be carried away. 

Felix lowered the veil attached to his bonnet, and 
seating himself in a corner, with his head supported in 
his hand, waited in an attitude of deep grief the arrival 
of the robbers. The rest of the travellers had with- 
drawn into the next chamber, but were still able to 
overlook what took place. The courier sat apparently 
overwhelmed with sorrow, but watching attentively 

_everything which occurred in the opposite corner of the 
room. After sitting in this way a few minutes the door 
opened, and a handsome, richly-dressed man entered | 
the chamber. He wore a sort of military uniform with 
an order on his breast, carried a sabre at his side, and 
held in his hand a hat decorated with beautiful feathers. 
Two of his men closed the door immediately after his 
entrance. 

He approached Felix with a profound bow, appearing 
to be somewhat embarrassed in the presence of a lady 
of such high rank, and tried several times before he suc- 
ceeded in expressing himself to his mind: 

‘‘Most honorable madam,” said he, ‘‘ circumstances 
sometimes happen in which one is obliged to practise a 
little patience. Such is your situation now. Do not 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 389 


fear that I shall lose sight for a single moment of the 
respect due to a lady of your exalted rank. You will be 
provided with every comfort, and will have no cause for 
complaint, except perhaps for the alarm we have occa- 
sioned you this evening.” 

He stopped as if awaiting an answer, but, receiving 
none, went on: 

‘You see in me, madam, no common thief. I am an 
unfortunate man, compelled by adverse circumstances 
to adopt this life. We desire to leave this locality for- 
ever, but we need funds for our journey. It would be 
an easy matter for us to attack merchants or mail- . 
coaches, but by so doing we should perhaps plunge 
many persons into poverty at once. The count your 
husband received, six weeks since, a legacy of five hun- 
dred thousand florins. We ask only twenty thousand 
florins from all this abundance, — surely a just and mod- 
erate demand. You will therefore do us the honor to 
write an open letter.to your husband, in which you will 
inform him that we hold you prisoner, and that he must 
pay your ransom as soon as possible. If he refuses — 
You understand me, madam; we shall be compelled to 
resort in that case to harsher measures. The ransom 
will not be received unless brought here by a single 
messenger under the seal of profound secrecy.”’ 

This scene was watched with the most strained atten- 
tion by all the guests of the tavern, and especially by 
the countess. She feared every moment to see the 
youth betray himself who had sacrificed himself for her 
sake. She was resolved to spend her whole fortune, if 
necessary, in procuring his release; but with equal 
firmness was her mind made up to endure any sacrifice, 
in case of his detection, rather than stir a step in com- 
pany with the robbers. She had found a knife in the 

33* 


390 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


goldsmith’s pocket. This she held clasped convulsively 
in her rigid hand, prepared to kill herself rather than 
submit to such a fate. Felix’s mind was in a state of 
no less anxiety. To be sure he was strengthened and 
consoled by the thought that it was a manly and honor- 
able deed to aid thus an oppressed and helpless woman ; 
but he was constantly in fear lest he should disclose the 
secret by some awkward movement or by the tone of 
his voice. His uneasiness increased when the robber 
spoke of a letter he must write. 

How should he write? What title should he give the 
count? What form to the letter, so as not to betray 
himself ? 

His excitement reached its climax when the leader 
of the band laid before him paper and pens, and re- 
quested him to lift his veil and write to the count. 

Felix was unconscious of the becomingness of his dis- 
guise. Had he known how well he looked, he would 
have felt no fears of a discovery; for when, driven by 
necessity, he at length threw back his veil, the gentle- 
man in uniform appeared much struck by the lady’s 
beauty and her manly and courageous expression, and 
looked upon her with increased respect. The quick 
eyes of the goldsmith did not fail to notice this; and, 
satisfied that for the present no danger of detection need 
be feared, he took the pen and wrote a letter to his sup- 
posed husband, following a form which he had long ago 
seen in some old book. It ran thus: 

‘« My Lorp anp Huspanp: I, your unhappy wife, have 
been suddenly arrested in my journey, in the middle of 
the night, by people to whom it is impossible to attrib- 
ute good motives. They mean to detain me in their 
keeping, my lord count, till you have advanced the sum 
of twenty thousand florins for my ransom. 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 391 


‘The condition is annexed that you make no appeal 
to the authorities to interfere in this matter, nor request 
of them assistance, and that you send the money to the 
roadside inn in‘Spessart by a single messenger; other- 
wise I am threatened with a longer and more severe 
imprisonment. 

‘She who invokes by these presents your immediate 
assistance, is Your unfortunate 

OW rR 

He handed this curious letter to the robber, who read 
it through and expressed his approval. 

“Tt rests now on your own decision,’ said he, 
‘‘whether you will be accompanied by your waiting- 
maid or your courier. One of them I must send to your 
husband with this letter.” 

“My courier and this gentleman will accompany 
me,’’ answered Felix. 

‘‘Good,”’ replied the robber, going to the door and 
calling for the waiting-woman. ‘Instruct this woman 
in what she has to do, if you please, madam.”’ 

The woman made her appearance with fear and trem- 
bling. Even Felix turned pale as he thought how easily 
he might even now bring on a discovery. But a cour- 
age, incomprehensible even to himself, and which gave 
him energy in this hour of peril, supplied him with 
words : 

‘‘T have no other directions to give you,” said he, 
‘‘except to urge the count to release me as soon as pos- 
sible from this painful situation.”’ 

“« And also,’’ added the robber, ‘‘ inform the count in 
the most emphatic language that he must keep pro- 
foundly silent on this matter, nor make any attempt of 
a forcible nature against us, till his wife is again safe in 
his hands. My spies would speedily notify me of any 


392 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


such project, and, should he do so, I should stick at 
nothing to frustrate his purpose.” 

The trembling waiting-woman promised everything. 
She was now ordered to pack a few articles of dress 
and clean linen in a bundle, for the countess’ use, as the 
robbers were not disposed to be incommoded by much 
luggage ; and when this had been done the leader of the 
gang, with a profound bow, requested the lady to fol- 
low him. Felix rose, the courier and student joined 
him, and all three went down stairs in company with 
the robber-captain. 

A number of horses were standing before the tavern. 
One of these was assigned to the courier, another, a 
small, handsome animal provided with a side-saddle,. 
stood ready for the countess, and a third was given to 
the student. The captain lifted the goldsmith into the 
saddle, and, fastening him firmly on, mounted his horse. 
He took his own place at the lady’s right hand, and on 
her left rode another of the band. The student and the 
courier were guarded in the same way. The rest of the 
band having mounted, the leader gave the signal for 
departure, and the whole gang soon disappeared in the 
forest. 

The party assembled in the upper chamber slowly 
recovered their tranquillity after this scene. As is 
usual in cases of great misfortune or sudden danger, 
their spirits would probably have been all the gayer 
from the reiiction, had they not been filled with concern 
for the fate of their three friends who had so lately been 
carried into captivity before their eyes. They were 
never tired of expressing their admiration of the young 
goldsmith, and the countess shed tears of emotion when 
she thought of the vast debt of gratitude she owed a 
youth to whom she had never done a kindness, and 


* 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 393 


whom she scarcely knew. It was a consolation to all 
to think that the courier and the student had gone with 
him ; and they cherished the hope that these experienced 
travellers would be able to find some means for their 
escape. They consulted together what course each 
should adopt. The countess, being bound by no oath 
to keep faith with the robbers, resolved to return imme- 
diately to her husband, and make every exertion to dis- 
cover the retreat of the prisoners, and set them free. 
The carrier promised to ride to Aschaffenburg, and call 
out the officers of justice in pursuit of the villains. The 
compass-maker determined to continue his journey. 

The travellers were not again disturbed during the 
night. The stillness of death reigned throughout the 
tavern, so lately the scene of such fearful and startling 
events. But the next morning, when the countess’ 
servants went in search of the landlord to make prepa- 
rations for their departure, they came back in great 
haste and announced that they had found the landlady 
and her household lying bound in the kitchen and im- 
ploring earnestly to be released. 

The travellers were greatly surprised at this infor- 
mation. 

‘‘What!’’ cried the compass-maker, ‘can it be that 
these people are innocent? Can it be that we have 
done them injustice, and they are not in alliance with 
the robbers ? ”’ 

““T will consent to be hanged in their stead,’’ an- 
swered the carrier, ‘‘if we have done them injustice. 
All this is a plot to avoid being convicted. Have you 
forgotten the suspicious look of the place? Have you 
forgotten, when I wished to go out, how that dog 
refused to let me pass, and how sullenly the landlady 
and the hostler demanded what I wanted? Still, these 


394 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


things were the cause of the countess’ present good- 
fortune. If things had looked less suspicious in the 
tavern, if the landlady’s conduct had not been so singu- 
lar, we should not have remained awake to stand by 
one another. The robbers would have had us at their 
mercy, and this fortunate exchange would never have 
been made.”’ 

They all coincided in the carrier’s opinion, and made 
up their minds to accuse the landlady and her servants 
to the proper authorities. But more effectually to carry 
their project into execution, they thought it best to 
excite no suspicions of their intention. The carrier 
and the servants descended therefore to the kitchen, 
released the wretches from their confinement, and 
showed them all the sympathy and attention they had it 
in their power to feign. To console her guests as much 
as she could, the landlady made out a very moderate 
bill to each, and invited them politely to come again. 

The carrier paid his reckoning, and, taking leave 
of his companions, continued his journey. The two 
journeymen also took their departure from the inn. 
Light as the goldsmith’s bundle was, it fatigued the 
delicate lady not a little. But still heavier was her 
heart, when the landlady, standing at the door, held out 
her treacherous hand to bid good-by. ‘‘ Why, what 
a young lad you are, truly!” said she at sight of the 
delicate woman. ‘‘So young, and wandering already! 
You must be a naughty boy, surely, whom your master 
has expelled from his shop. Well, it ’s none of my 
business.. Come and see me when you come back. 
Pleasant journey !” 

The countess could rot answer from fear and agita- 
tion, dreading to betray herself by the softness of her 
voice. The compass-maker, noticing this, took the arm 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 395 


of his comrade, and, singing a merry song, strode into 
the forest. 

“In safety at last !’’ exclaimed the countess, after 
walking a hundred yards. ‘‘I was in constant terror 
lest that woman should detect me, and order her men 
to seize me. O, how shall I thank you all! You, too, 
must come to my castle; you must rejoin your comrade 
there.” 

The compass-maker assented, and while they were 
speaking, the countess’ carriage overtook them. The 
door was instantly thrown open, the lady took her seat 
inside, and, having taken leave once more of the young 
journeyman, the carriage drove off. 

About this same time the robbers reached with. their 
prisoners the camping-ground of the troop. They had 
ridden at a rapid trot through an unfrequented forest 
road, exchanging no words with their captives, and 
only whispering occasionally to each other when the 
road changed its direction. They halted at length 
before a deep defile. The robbers dismounted, and 
their leader helped the goldsmith to alight, excusing 
himself at the same time for his hard and rapid ride, 
and asking whether her ladyship felt much fatigued. 

Felix answered, in as soft a voice as he could assume, 
that he felt much in need of rest, and the captain 
offered his arm to escort him into the glen. They went 
down a steep declivity, where the footpath was so 
narrow and precipitous that the captain was often 
compelled to support his prisoner, to preserve her 
from falling. At last they reaclied the bottom. Felix 
saw before him, by the dim light of the approaching 
morning, a narrow defile less than a hundred yards 
wide, and completely concealed by overhanging cliffs. 
Six or eight huts had been erected here, built of rough 


396 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


logs and boards. Several dirty women were staring 
curiously out of these hovels, and a pack of twelve 
huge dogs and their countless progeny, ran barking 
and yelping towards the new arrivals. The captain led 
the supposed countess into the best of these huts, tell- 
ing her that it should be devoted exclusively to her use ; 
and also assented to her request that the courier aud 
the student might be allowed access to her. 

The hut was spread with deer-skins and mats, serving 
at once for floor and seat. A few wooden jugs and 
dishes, an old fowling-piece, and in the furthermost 
corner a couch made of a couple of boards and covered 
with woollen rags, were the only furniture of this luxu- 
rious palace. Left alone in this miserable hovel, the 
three captives for the first time had now a chance to 
reflect on their singular position. Felix, though he 
felt no regrets for the generous action he had performed, 
had some apprehensions notwithstanding for his future, 
in the event of a discovery, and had begun to give 
audible utterance to his fears, when the courier hastily 
approached him, and whispered in hisear: ‘‘ Be silent, 
for God’s sake, my dear lad! Do you think we are yet 
out of hearing ?’’ —‘“‘If you speak a single word, the 
tone of your voice may excite instant suspicion,”’? added 
the student. Nothing was left to Felix, but to weep in 
silence. 

‘Believe me, courier,’ said he, ‘(I am not crying 
from fear of these robbers, or aversion to this wretched 
hut ; my sorrow has a totally different cause. I weep 
to think how easily the countess may forget what I told 
her, and people will take me for a thief, nae I shall be 
miserable for life.”’ 

“Why, what is it which so distresses you?’ asked 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 397 


the courier, surprised at the lad’s demeanor, so different 
from his recent courage and firmness. 

‘‘ Hear my story, and you will justify me,’’ answered 
Felix. ‘‘ My father was a skilful goldsmith of Nurem- 
burg. My mother, before her marriage, had been in the 
service of a lady of rank, and, when she married my 
father, was generously endowed by the countess her 
mistress. This kindness was not forgotten by my 
parents, and when I came into the world the same 
good lady became my god-mother, and gave me a hand- 
some sum of money. Both my parents dying soon 
after, my god-mother took pity on my unfortunate con- 
dition and sent me to school; and, as soon as I was old 
enough, wrote to inquire if I had any inclination for my 
father’s trade. I joyfully assented, and at once ob- 
tained a place in the shop of a master-goldsmith of 
Wurzburg. I showed a taste for the business, and 
made such progress that I was soon pronounced fit to 
commence my travels. I wrote to inform my god- 
mother of this, and she immediately answered that she 
would supply the money for my expenses. She alse 
sent me some jewels, which I was to furnish with a 
handsome setting, and bring them to her myself, as 
evidences of my skill. I had never yet seen her, and 
you may imagine how deeply I felt her kindness. I 
worked at the trinkets day and night, and succeeded 
in making them so elegant that even my master was 
filled with admiration. When finished, I packed them 
carefully away in the bottom of my knapsack, and, 
taking leave of my master, set out for my god-mother’s 
castle. Then came,’ continued the lad, bursting into 
tears, ‘‘ these infamous robbers, and overthrew all my 
hopes. For if the countess were to lose these jewels, 
or should she forget what I said to her and throw away 

34 


398 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


my worthless knapsack, how shall I ever have the face 
to enter the presence of my kind benefactress? How ’* 
shall I ever exonerate myself? How replace the 
stones? I shall seem to her an ungrateful wretch, 
shamefully throwing away her promised benefits. And 
after all, no one will believe me when I tell of this 
strange accident ? ” 

‘‘ Have no fears of that,’’ answered the courier. ‘I 
feel sure that your jewels are perfectly safe in the coun- 
tess’ hands; and, if not, she will undoubtedly make 
their loss good to her preserver, and add her testimony 
as to the truth of these events. We will leave you 
now for a few hours, as we stand much in need of sleep, 
and after the exertions of this night you must yourself 
want rest. To-morrow we will try to forget our mis- 
fortunes in conversation, or, what is better still, devise 
some means of escape.” 

They bade him good-night, and Felix made his best 
endeavors to follow the courier’s advice. 

When the courier came back with the student, several 
hours later, he found his young friend in better spirits 
than on the previous night. He told Felix that the 
leader of the band had directed him to take the greatest 
care of the lady, and that in a few minutes one of the 
women whom they had seen among the huts would 
bring her some coffee, and offer her services to wait 
upon her. They resolved, for the sake of privacy, not 
to accept these hospitalities ; and when the old, hideous 
gipsey came with the breakfast, and asked, with a 
friendly leer, if she could be of any service, on her delay- 
ing to depart, the courier took her by the arm and 
pushed her out of the cabin. The student then 
described the result of their observations in the rob- 
bers’ camp. ‘‘The hovel you occupy, lovely count- 


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Part 2. 


THE COLD HEART. 


THE COLD HEART. 399 


ess,’ said he, ‘‘ appears to have been originally in- 
tended for the captain. It is not so roomy, but is . 
much handsomer than the others. There are six others, 
in which the women and children live. One of the rob- 
bers stands guard not far from this hut, another below 
here on the road up the hill, and a third is on the look- 
out at the entrance of the defile. They are relieved 
every two hours. In addition, each man has a couple 
of large dogs lying near him, and they are all so watch- 
ful, that one cannot set his foot outside the huts without 
being immediately challenged. I have abandoned all 
hopes of effecting our escape.”’ 

“Pray do not cast down my revived courage,” 
answered Felix, ‘‘ nor give up all hope. If you fear 
our being overheard, let us talk of something else, and 
not make ourselves unhappy before our time. Mr. 
Student, you began a good story at the tavern; why 
not finish it now? We have plenty of spare time.”’ 

‘IT scarcely remember where [I left off,’’ answered the 
young man. 

‘You were telling the story of The Cold Heart, and 
stopped where the landlord and the other gambler had 
thrown Peter out of the front door.” 

“True, I recollect now,’”’ answered he. ‘‘If you are 
disposed for more, I will go on.”’ 


THE COLD HEART. 
PART SECOND. 


Tue following Monday, when Peter went to his glass- 
house, he found there not only his workmen, but several 
unwelcome strangers, namely, the bailiff and three con- 


400 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


stables. The bailiff bade Peter good-morning, and, 
having inquired how he slept the night before, drew 
from his pocket a long document containing a list of his 
creditors. 

‘Can you pay, or not?’’ demanded he with a stern 
look. ‘‘ And-cut it short, too, for 1’ve not much time 
to throw away, and I’ve been here three good hours 
already.”’ 

The despondent Peter confessed that his means were 
exhausted, and surrendered all his property, house, yard, 
sheds, stalls, wagons, and horses, to be appraised by 
the bailiff; and while the latter was going about with 
the constables, examining and appraising, the thought 
crossed his mind that the pine grove was not far off, and, 
as the dwarf had done him no good, he had better pay 
a visit to the giant. He ran to the pine grove as fast 
as if the constables were at his heels; and, though it 
seemed to him, as he passed the place where he had 
first spoken to the glass manikin, that an invisible hand 
held him back, he tore himself loose, and ran on to the 
ditch which he had noticed in former times ; and scarcely 
had he shouted breathlessly, ‘‘ Hollander Michael! Hol- 
lander Michael!’’ when the gigantic raftsman stood 
before him, staff in hand. 

‘So you have come already?”’ said he, laughing. 
““They have been skinning you, no doubt, and want 
to sell you to your creditors. Well, well, be easy ; 
your whole trouble comes, as I told you it would, from 
that contemptible glass manikin, the hypocrite! If a 
man means to benefit another, he should do it hand- 
somely, and not like that stingy curmudgeon. But 
come,’’ continued he, turning into the wood, “follow 
me to my house, and we ’ll see then whether we can 
come to terms.” 


THE COLD HEART. 401 


“Come to terms!” thought Peter. ‘‘ What can he 
want of me that I can come to terms about? What can 
I do for him? What does he mean, I wonder?” 

They first ascended a steep foot-path, and came sud- 
denly to the edge of a deep, retired defile. Hollander 
Michael sprang down the cliff with a leap, as if it were 
an easy flight of stairs; and Peter nearly fainted from 
terror when his guide, as soon as he reached the ground, 
grew in stature to the size of a church-steeple, and, 
extending an arm towards the charcoal-burner as long 
as a weaver’s beam, with a hand at the end of it as 
wide as a tavern table, shouted in a voice like a deep 
funeral bell: ‘‘Get into my hand and hold fast by my 
fingers, and you will not fall.”” With fear and trembling 
Peter did as he was commanded, and, seating himself in 
the giant’s hand, clasped his arms firmly round the 
thumb. 

Their way descended far and deep into the bowels 
of the earth, but, to Peter’s astonishment, seemed to 
grow no darker ; on the contrary, the light of day grew 
so much brighter in the valley that he was compelled at 
last to shut his eyes. Hollander Michael, as his walk 
continued, had gradually diminished in size, and, when 
he at length halted before a cottage of the kind occupied 
by the richer inhabitants of the Black Forest, had re- 
sumed his former more moderate dimensions. The hut 
into which Peter was led differed in nothing from the 
huts of other people except in its utter solitude. The 
wooden house-clock, the huge fireplace, the broad 
benches, and the articles on the shelves, were precisely 
the same as everywhere else. Michael pointed him to 
a seat behind a large table, and, leaving the room, soon 
returned with a pitcher of wine and glasses. Pouring 
out a full tumbler for each, Michael began the conver- 

34* 


- 402 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


sation, and told of the pleasures of the world, of foreign 
countries, of beautiful cities and rivers, till Peter began 
to feel a strong desire to visit these places, and said as 
much to his host. 

“Tf your whole body were running over with courage 
for bold undertakings, Peter, a couple of throbs of your 
foolish, useless heart would make you tremble. Why 
should a sensible fellow like you trouble himself about 
dishonor or misfortune? Did you feel it in your head 
when they called you lately scoundrel and rogue? Did 
it make your stomach ache when the bailiff came to 
pitch you out of your glass-house? Tell me, Peter, 
my boy, what part of you felt these annoyances?” 

‘‘ My heart,’’ said Peter, pressing his hand to his 
throbbing breast. 

“You have thrown away — no offence, Peter—a great 
many hundred florins on dirty beggars and such vermin, 
and what good has it done you? They blessed you, to 
be sure, and wished you health ; but did you ever find 
yourself better for that? For half the money you have 
wasted on beggars you might have kept a physician 
in your pay. Asif a blessing were of any use when a 
man is thrust out of doors! Bah! And what was it, 
Peter, drove you to feel in your pockets whenever a 
beggar pulled off his greasy hat to you? Your heart, 
Peter, always your heart! Not your eyes, nor your 
tongue, nor your arms, nor your legs, but your heart! 
You took everything too much to heart, as the say- 


ing ig.’”’ 
x D how can a man help it, sir? I give myself all 
~ the trouble in the world to keep my heart down, but it 
beats and pains me all the same.” 

‘‘By yourself, of course,’’ said his host, laughing, 
‘‘you can do nothing to prevent it. But give me the 


THE COLD HEART. 403 





fortable you will be.”’ of 

‘‘Give you my heart!” cried Peter in terror. fo 
should die on the spot.’’ fr’: 

‘Of course you would, if one of your rascally sur- 
geons were to take it out of your body ; you would die, 
no doubt. But it’s a very different affair with me. 
Come and see for yourself.” 

Rising from his seat he opened a door and led Peter 
into another room. Peter’s heart contracted painfully 
as he crossed the threshold, for the sight which met his 
eye was strange and startling. Glass vessels filled 
with a transparent liquid, and each containing a human 
heart, were ranged on wooden shelves round the room, 
and on each vessel was pasted a ticket with a name 
written on it, which Peter read with great surprise. 
Here was the heart of the bailiff of F., of Fat Ezekiel, 
of King Dance, of the head forester ; there six hearts 
of usurers, eight of recruiting-officers, three of money- 
brokers. In short, it was a museum of the most 
respectable hearts within a radius of twenty leagues. 

‘‘ Look,’”’ said Hollander Michael; ‘all these have 
thrown aside the cares and anxieties of life. None of 
these hearts ever beat with sorrow and suffering, and 
their former owners never cease to congratulate them- 
selves that they have expelled the uneasy guest from 
their houses.” 

‘‘But what do they carry in their breasts in their 
place?” inquired Peter, giddy at the dreadful sig 

‘‘This,’”’ replied the giant, taking from his poc 
heart of marble. ° 

‘Indeed!’ answered Peter, unable to repress a shud- 
der. ‘‘A marble heart! But, Hollander Michael, it 
must feel very cold in a man’s bosom.”’ 


troublesome thing, and you will see at once how com- # 
t 






ah 


404 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘Of course,”’ said the spectre ; ‘‘ very agreeably so, 
however. Where is the advantage of a warm heart? 
The warmth is no benefit in winter, for a glass of brandy 
and a good fire are a great deal better; and in summer, 
when everything is so sultry and hot, you have no idea 
how cooling such a heart as this is! Besides, as I said 
before, you will never feel pain nor fear ; and silly com- 
passion and such ridiculous emotions will never annoy 
you again.” 

‘‘ And this is all you can give me?”’ asked Peter, dis- 
contentedly. ‘I was expecting money, and you offer 
me only a marble heart! ”’ 

‘‘ Nay, a hundred thousand florins I thought would be 
enough for you at first. If you manage it well, you 
will soon get to be a millionaire.”’ 

‘“*A hundred thousand!” cried the poor charcoal- 
burner joyfully. ‘‘ Aha! my heart beats so violently 
I see we shall soon understand one another. Very well, 
Michael, give me the stone and the money, and you may 
have all the uneasiness for yourself.” 

“‘T thought you were a sensible lad,’’ said the Hol- 
lander, laughing kindly. ‘‘ Come, let’s take a drink or 
two, and I ’ll count out the money.” 

They sat down to their wine again, and continued to 
drink till Peter sank into a deep sleep. 


He was awakened at last by the merry sounds of a 
post-horn, and to his surprise found himself sitting in a 
handsome coach, and travelling on a broad and level 
road ; and, bending out of the window, he saw the Black 
Forest lying behind him in the blue horizon. At first 
he could not believe that it was-he sitting in this fine 
carriage. His clothes were certainly not those which 
he had worn yesterday ; but his memory of what had 


THE COLD HEART. - 405 


taken place was so vivid that he abandoned his reflec- 
tions and exclaimed: ‘‘I am Peter the charcoal-burner, 
and no one else; that’s certain.” 

He was much surprised to find that he felt no emo- 
tions of regret at leaving for the first time his birthplace 
in the quiet forest where he had passed so many years 
of his life. Even when he thought of his mother, now 
sitting helpless and miserable in her hut, he was wholly 
unable to squeeze out a tear, or even heave asigh. Every- 
thing was a matter of indifference to him. ‘‘ Ah, to be 
sure,’ said he, “tears and sighs, home-sickness and 
sorrow, all come from the heart, and, thanks to Hol- 
lander Michael, mine is stony and cold! ” 

He laid his hand on his bosom, and his heart was 
silent and motionless. 

“If he has kept his word with the hundred thousand 
as well as he has with the heart, I have no complaints to 
make,’’ said he, hunting about in the carriage. He 
found articles of dress of all kinds in abundance, but no 
money. At last he hit upon a pocket in which he found 
many thousand dollars in gold, and drafts upon bankers 
in every large city on the continent. ‘I’ve found all 
I wanted,” he thought ; and, throwing himself comfort- 
ably in the corner of the coach, resigned himself to 
meditation on his European tour. 

He travelled about the world two years, looking at 
the houses from his carriage-windows, or the hotel-signs 
when he came to a halt, and inspecting the wonders 
of the various cities through which he passed. But 
nothing gave him pleasure. Pictures, palaces, music, 
dancing, all fatigued him. His stony heart sympathized 
with nothing, and his eyes and ears were dead to all 
that was beautiful. Nothing remained but the pleas- 
ures of eating, drinking, and sleep; and thus he lived, 


406 ~— ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


while travelling without an object through the world, 
eating to give himself amusement, and sleeping to cheat 
himself of life. Now and then he seemed to remember 
that he had led a happier life, when he was a poor la- 
borer and obliged to toil to earn his daily bread. In 
those days every lovely landscape, every bit of music 
or dancing, had given him pleasure, and he would 
please himself for hours in thinking of the simple meal 
which his mother was to bring him at the kiln. Re- 
calling to his memory these pleasant times, it struck 
him as strange that though in those days the smallest 
matter threw him into fits of laughter, he now found it 
difficult to summon up a smile. When others laughed, 
he feigned to join with them, but his heart felt no 
merriment. He found himself untroubled by anxiety, 
but contented felt that he was not. Not home-sick- 
ness nor sorrow, but ennui, drove him at last to turn 
his course towards home. 

As he crossed the country from Strasburg, and saw 
the dark forest of his childhood; as he caught sight for 
the first time after so long an interval of the manly 
forms and jovial faces of its inhabitants; as his ear 
heard the strong, deep, melodious music of his home, — 
he felt for his heart, wondering why he did not rejoice 
or weep. But his heart was of marble, and he felt the 
folly of his hopes. Stones are dead, and do not laugh 
or cry. 

His first visit was to Hollander Michael, who received 
him with his former friendliness. 

“* Michael,” said Peter to the giant, ‘‘I have travelled 
the world over, and seen all there is to be seen, but 
everything has been vanity, and I have suffered intoler- 
able weariness. The thing of stone I carry in my breast 
excluded me from many pleasures. I am never angry, 


THE COLD HEART. 407 


never sad, and never pleased; and I am as though I 
were but half alive. Can you not infuse a little life into 
my stony heart? Or rather, Michael, give me back 
my own. I had been used to it for five-and-twenty 
years, and, if it did sometimes play me a treacherous 
trick, after all it was joyous and alive.”’ 

The spectre laughed a bitter, cruel laugh. 

‘‘When you are dead, Peter,’’ he answered, ‘‘ you 
shall have it without fail. You shall then receive 
again your soft, throbbing heart, and be capable of feel- 
ing the ensuing joy — or misery. It can never again 
be yours on earth! But, Peter, you say you have trav- 
elled, and yet, live as you pleased, have never tasted 
pleasure. Establish yourself here in this forest, build 
you a house, marry, and invest your wealth in trade. 
You only need occupation. You felt ennui merely from 
idleness, and now ascribe all your unhappiness to this 
harmless heart.’’ 

Peter saw that Michael was right, as far as concerned 
idleness, and resolved to devote himself day and night to 
the accumulation of money. Michael gave him another 
hundred thousand florins, and once more dismissed him, 
persuaded that the giant was his devoted friend. 

The rumor soon spread through the forest that Char- 
coal Peter, or Gambling Peter, had come home richer 
than beforesa and the result was the same as it has ever 
been since the’ beginning of the world. As long as he 
was in poverty they pitched him out of the house into 
the sun ; now, when he made his first appearance at the 
tavern on a Sunday afternoon, people shook his hand, 
admired his horse, inquired about his travels, and when 
he sat down, as he did at once, to play for hard dollars 
with Fat Ezekiel, the respect he inspired was as high as 
ever. His business now was no longer glass-making, 


2 


408 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


but dealing in timber, though this was merely a cloak 
for other avocations. His principal business was lend- 
ing money. Half the forest.came gradually in his debt, 
for he lent money only at ten per cent. interest, or sold 
corn at thrice its value to the poor. He stood now 
hand-in-glove with the bailiff, and if a debtor failed to 
pay Mr. Peter Munk on the exact day, that official 
would instantly ride over with his myrmidons, distrain 
house and land, sell it forthwith, and drive father, 
mother and child into the forest. At first this severity 
occasioned Peter some trouble, for the ejected tenants 
besieged his house in crowds, the men begging for for- 
bearance, the women seeking to soften his stony heart, 
and the little children crying for a piece of bread. But 
this cat’s-music, as he called it, ceased entirely as soon 
as he procured a couple of trained bull-dogs ; for no 
sooner did he whistle for his hounds than the beggars 
fled shrieking into the wood. His chief inconvenience 
was occasioned by “the old woman.’ This person was 
no other than Mrs. Munk, Peter’s mother, who had been 
reduced by the sale of her house and land to the utmost 
poverty and wretchedness, and for whom her son, with 
all his wealth, had not seen fit to make inquiry. 

The good old lady, weak, feeble and shattered, came 
sometimes to Peter’s house. She no longer ventured 
to go in, for he had once driven her out with great vio- 
lence ; but it occasioned her much unhappiness to be 
compelled to depend on the kindness of other men, 
when her own son had it in his power to make her old 
age comfortable. But the icy heart was never softened 
at the sight of the pale, familiar face, the imploring 
glance, and the trembling, outstretched hand. When 
she knocked at his door of a Sunday evening, he would 
draw a kreutzer from his pocket with a growl, wrap it 


THE COLD HEART. 409 


in paper, and send it out to her by a servant. He heard 
her trembling voice thanking him and wishing him 
prosperity ; he heard her feeble cough as she crept from 
his door ; but he thought no more of the matter, except 
to regret that he had again thrown away a kreutzer for 
nothing. 

At last Peter began to think of getting married. He 
knew that every father in the Black Forest would gladly 
have him for a son-in-law, but he was fastidious in his 
choice, for he wished in this, as in everything else, to 
be praised for his sagacity and judgment. He rode, 
therefore, from one end of the forest to the other, mak- 
ing careful search for a suitable helpmeet; but none of 
the beauties of the Black Forest seemed to him hand- 
some enough. At last, after hunting in vain through 
all the dance-taverns for a beauty to his mind, he heard 
that the handsomest and most virtuous girl in the whole 
region about was the daughter of a certain poor wood- 
cutter. She lived quietly and apart, managing indus- 
triously her father’s house, and never appearing at 
dancing-rooms or Whitsuntide festivities. When Peter 
heard of this flower of the forest he determined to win 
her, and rode over to the cottage. 

The father of the beautiful Elizabeth received the dis- 
tinguished stranger with much surprise, which in- 
creased when he learned that it was the rich Mr. Munk, 
and that he wished to become his son-in-law. His hesi- 
tation was brief, for he thought to himself that all his 
poverty and care would now be at an end, and he as- 
sented without asking his daughter; and the good child 
was so obedient that she became Madam Munk without 
resistance. 

But things were far otherwise with the poor creature 
than she had pictured to herself before her marriage. 

35 


410 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


She had believed she understood the management of a 
household, but she found too late that she could never 
do anything to her husband’s satisfaction. She felt 
compassion for the poor, and, as her husband was rich, 
thought there could be no sin in giving a poor beggar- 
woman an occasional penny, or an old mendicant a glass 
of schnapps; but, seeing her doing this one day, Peter 
said to her in an angry voice: 

‘““Why do you waste my property on beggars and 
thieves? Did you bring so much into my house that 
you can afford to throw it away like dirt? Your father’s 
beggary never warmed me a supper yet, and you throw 
my money about like a queen! Do so again, madam, 
and you shall feel the weight of my hand! ” 

The beautiful Elizabeth wept bitterly in her chamber 
over her husband’s cruelty, and often longed to be at 
home in her father’s miserable hut, rather than live with 
the rich, stingy, hard-hearted Peter. Alas! had she 
known that his heart was of marble, and that he could 
never love any human being, she would have ceased to 
wonder. Henceforth, whenever she sat at the door, 
and a passing beggar pulled off his hat and craved a 
little aid, she would shut her eyes to prevent her seeing 
the sufferer, and clench her hand for fear of thrusting it 
into her pocket and taking out a piece of money. The 
consequence of this naturally was, that Elizabeth grew 
to be the talk of the whole forest, and people declared 
that she was even stingier than Peter himself. One 
day she was sitting before the door spinning, and hum- 
ming a little song, for she felt in good spirits, as the 
weather was fine and Peter had ridden out to his fields, 
when a little, old man came down the road, carrying on 
his shoulders a heavy sack, and coughing so pitifully 
that she could hear him a long way off. Elizabeth 


THE COLD HEART, 411 


looked at him compassionately, and tnought in her ten- 
der heart how wrong it was that so old and small a man 
should be compelled to carry so heavy a load. 

Meanwhile the little man coughed and staggered 
along, and, when opposite Elizabeth, almost broke down 
under his burthen. 

‘‘ Alas! madam, have the goodness to give me a 
draught of cold water,’’ said he; ‘‘I can go no further, 
and am almost fainting.” 

‘But you should not carry such heavy loads in your 
old age, poor man,”’ said Elizabeth. 

‘Yes; but Iam obliged to do these jobs from pov- 
erty,’’ replied he. ‘‘ Ah, so rich a lady as you are has 
no idea how heavily poverty presses, and how refresh- 
ing is a draught of cool water in such sultry heat as 
this !”’ 

Elizabeth ran into the house, and, taking a pitcher 
from the shelf, filled it with water; but, standing a few 
paces distant, and seeing how sadly the little man sat 
on his sack, her heart overflowed with compassion, and, 
remembering that her husband was from home, she set 
down the pitcher of water, and, filling a cup with wine, 
cut a large slice of rye bread, and brought both to the 
old mendicant. 

‘‘ A glass of wine will do you more good than water, 
as you are so old,”’ said she; ‘‘ drink it slowly, and eat 
this bread with it.’’ ; 

The little fellow looked at her with surprise, and, with 
big tears standing in his eyes, drank the wine and said: 

“‘T have lived many years, but I have seen few peo- 
ple so compassionate, and who know so well how to 
use their wealth, as you, Madam Elizabeth. You will 
be happy hereafter, for so good a heart does not go un- 
rewarded.”’ 


412 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


‘*No; and she shall receive her reward on the spot,” 
cried an angry voice, and Peter stood before her, his 
face crimson with rage. 

‘‘So you give my best wine to beggars, do you? and 
my Own cup you lend to such rascals as this! I’Il pay 
you!” 

She fell at his feet, entreating him for mercy ; but his 
stony heart knew no compassion. He reversed the 
whip which he held in his hand, and struck her so heav- 
ily on her beautiful brow, with its ebony handle, that she 
sank lifeless into the old man’s arms. Seeing this, a 
sort of selfish regret seized him for a moment, and he 
bent down to see if she still retained a spark of life, 
when the old man said, in a well-known voice : 

‘Give yourself no trouble, Peter. She was the fairest 
flower in the Black Forest, but you have crushed her 
under foot, and she will never bloom again.” 

Peter’s cheeks blanched in a moment. ‘‘So it is you, 
Mr. Treasurer? Well, what is done is done, and it was 
sure to come at last. I hope, sir, you will not denounce 
me to the officers as a murderer.”’ 

“Villain!’’? answered the glass manikin. ‘‘ What 
pleasure should I have in bringing your perishable body 
to the gallows? No human judge have you to fear, but 
another and more dreadful arbiter, for you have lost 
your soul to the Prince of Evil.’ 

‘And if I have lost my soul,”’ yelled Peter, ‘‘ you 
and your treacherous gifts are the only ones to blame. 
You, malicious demon, have led me into ruin; you 
have driven me to seek assistance from another, and on 
your shoulders lies the whole responsibility.”’? Scarcely 
had he said this, when the glass manikin began to dilate 
and expand; his eyes became as large as soup-plates, 
and his mouth like a lighted furnace, with flames issu- 


THE COLD HEART. 413 


ing from it. Peter threw himself on his knees, and his 
marble heart could not prevent his limbs from trem- 
bling like aspen-leaves. The wood-demon seized him by 
the neck with vulture claws, and, twisting him as a whirl- 
wind twists a leaf, threw him on the ground with such 
force that his ribs cracked. ‘‘ Worm!” cried the spectre 
in a voice of thunder, ‘‘I could crush you if I chose, 
for you have blasphemed against this forest’s lord ; but 
for this murdered woman’s sake, who gave me to eat 
and drink, I grant you a respite of a week. Mend 
your ways in this time, or I will rend you in pieces, 
and send your soul to punishment in its sins!” 

Late in the evening some strangers passing by 
found rich Peter Munk lying senseless in the road. 
They turned him over to discover if he still breathed, 
and for some time could not find a spark of life. 
Finally, one of the men went into the house, and, bring- 
ing out water, sprinkled it in his face. Peter drewa 
deep breath, groaned heavily, and, opening his eyes, 
gazed about bewildered for some time, and then asked 
for Elizabeth ; but no one had seen her. Thanking the 
strangers for their assistance, he crept into the house, 
and sought in every direction for his wife ; but, finding 
her nowhere, the idea gradually became conviction in 
his mind that what he had hoped was but a frightful 
dream was dread and terrible reality. In his loneli- 
ness, strange reflections occupied his thoughts. Fear 
he could not feel, for his heart was stone ; but, thinking 
on his wife’s death, his mind reverted to his own 
decease, and how heavily laden he must leave this 
world, — laden with the tears of the poor, with their thou- 
sand curses which had never changed his will, with 
the misery of the sufferers on whom he had set his 
dogs, with the silent despair of his own mother, with 

35* 


414 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


the blood of the saintly Elizabeth ; and if he could not 
justify himself to the old man, her father, were he to 
come and ask him, ‘‘ Where is my daughter and your 
wife ?’’ how could he stand before the face of One, to 
whom belonged all woods, all seas, all mountains, and 
all human souls ? 

His dreams at night were restless, and incessantly a 
sweet voice awoke him, calling, ‘‘ Peter, seek a warmer 
heart ! ’’—a voice he knew to be Elizabeth’s. The next 
day he repaired to the tavern to dissipate his mel- 
ancholy thoughts, and there found, as usual, Fat Ezekiel. 
He sat down by his side, and the two friends talked of 
various subjects, — of the fine weather, the war, the 
heavy taxes; and what not, and at length of sudden 
death. Peter asked Ezekiel what he thought of death, 
and if he had ever reflected on his life hereafter. 
Ezekiel answered, that the body was buried under 
ground, and the soul departed at once to heaven or to 
hell, 

‘“‘And is the heart buried also?” inquired Peter 
earnestly. 

‘‘ Of course, the heart also.”’ 

“« But if one has no heart ?”’ continued Peter. 

Ezekiel looked at him with terror in his face. 

‘“What do you mean? Are you mocking me? 
Think you I have no heart? ”’ 

“0, heart enough, and as hard as a stone!” replied 
Peter. 

Ezekiel looked astounded, and, gazing nervously 
round to see that no one overheard, whispered : 

‘How do you know that? Or perhaps yours too has 
ceased to feel ? ”’ 

‘‘Mine too has ceased to feel, at least in my own 
bosom,’”’ answered Peter. ‘‘But tell me, since you 


THE COLD HEART. 415 


now know all, how will it fare with our hearts 
hereafter 2”? . 

‘Why should that trouble you, neighbor?’ said 
Ezekiel, laughing. ‘‘ You are well enough off during 
your lifetime, at any rate. It is the greatest comfort 
of our cold hearts that such notions give us no un- 
easiness.”’ 

‘True enough, but we think of them, nevertheless ; 
and, though I cannot now feel fear, yet I remember dis- 
tinctly how terribly afraid of hell I felt when I wasa 
little, innocent child.’’ 

‘* Well—we shan’t go there just yet, I hope,” said 
Ezekiel. ‘‘I once asked a schoolmaster about it, and he 
told me that after death hearts were always weighed, 
to judge how grievously they had sinned. The light 
ones rise, the heavy sink; and I’m thinking ours, Peter, 
will show a decent weight.’’ 

“They will indeed,’ answered Peter; ‘‘and it often 
makes me uneasy to find how unmoved and indifferent 
my heart remains when I think of these matters.’’ 

The next night he heard five or six times the same 
familiar voice whisper in his ear: ‘‘ Peter, seek a 
warmer heart!’’ He felt no remorse for her death, but 
when he told his servants that their mistress had gone 
on a journey, he thought to himself: ‘‘ What journey 
can she be travelling now?’’ Six days he spent in this 
way, and night after night he heard the voice, and day 
after day recalled the spectre and his frightful menace. 
On the seventh morning he sprang from his bed, 
exclaiming: ‘‘ Yes, I will try to obtain a warmer 
heart, for this insensible stone within makes my life 
only a burthen and fatigue.’”? He put his Sunday suit 
hastily on, and, mounting his horse, rode to the pine 
grove. 


416 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


He dismounted at a place where the trees grew close 
and thick, and, fastening his horse to a branch, ran 
with hasty steps to the big pine, and recited his verse : 


*¢ Treasurer in the forest green, 
Who so many hundred years hast seen, 
Thine is the land where the pine-trees stand, 
And Sabbath-born children bless thy hand.’’ 


The glass manikin instantly appeared, but a stern and 
angry expression had displaced his former kindly glance. 
He wore a doublet of black glass, with a long crape 
fluttering from his hat, and Peter well knew for whom 
he mourned. 

‘« What would you have of me? ”’ he asked in a gloomy 
voice. 

‘“‘T have one wish left, Sir Treasurer,’’ answered 
Peter, with downcast eyes. 

‘Can hearts of marble wish?’’ said the dwarf. 
“You have now all your wicked mind can desire, and 
shall have no more.”’ 

“‘But you promised me three wishes, and one is still 
unused,’’ urged Munk. 

“Tf it is foolish, I can refuse it,’”’ said the spectre ; 
‘speak ; what is it you would ask ?”’ 

‘‘Take from my breast this block of stone, and give 
me back my living heart,’’ said Peter. 

‘‘ Was it I who made the exchange? ”’ said the mani- 
kin. ‘‘Am I Hollander Michael, to give away riches 
and marble hearts? You must seek your heart from 
him.” 

‘¢ Alas, he never gives back !’’ sobbed Peter. 

‘Bad as you are, | feel for your unhappiness,” said 
the glass manikin after a moment’s thought. ‘‘ As your 
wish is not foolish, I will not refuse my aid. Listen. 


e THE COLD HEART. 417 


You can never recover you heart by force, but you can 
by guile, and perhaps without much difficulty, for Mi- 
chael has ever been stupid Michael, although he thinks 
himself extremely shrewd. Go to him, and do as I 
direct.’’ 

Then, telling him what course to follow to attain his 
object, he gave him a smali cross of finest glass, and 
said: 

“As long as you live he can do you no injury ; and 
he will let you pass unopposed, if-you hold this out to- 
wards him, and pray to God. When you have obtained 
what you go for, come back at once to this place.’ 

Peter took the crucifix, and, imprinting every word 
on his memory, went on to Hollander Michael’s abode. 
He called his name three times, and the giant stood 
before him. ‘‘So you have killed your wife? ”’ he said, 
with a horrid laugh. ‘‘ You were perfectly right to do 
so, for she squandered your property on beggars. But 
you must leave the country for a while, for it will lead 
to trouble when people find she does not come back. 
You want money I suppose, and have come to get it? ”’ 

‘You have guessed it,’’ said Peter, ‘‘ and a good deal 
this time, for it’s a long road to America.” 

Michael led him to his cottage; and opening a 
coffer, in which lay heaps of gold, took out many rolls 
of the precious metal. While he was counting it down 
on the table, Peter said : 

‘You are a tricky fellow, Michael, with your lies 
about my carrying a stone in my breast and yourself 
having my real heart.’’ 

“‘And is it not so?’’ said Michael, amazed. ‘‘ Do 
you feel your heart still? Is it not cold, like ice? Do 
you feel fear, or sorrow? Do you ever repent a sin?” 

“‘You have merely deadened my heart a little, but I 


418 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


have it in my bosom yet, and so has Ezekiel, who told 
me you had cheated us. You have no power to take a 
man’s heart so neatly and safely out of his body. You 
would have to use magic to do such a thing.” 

‘‘But I assure you,”’ cried Michael, offended, ‘‘ that 
Ezekiel, and all the rich people about here who have 
had dealings with me, have just such marble hearts as 
yours, and their true hearts are all stowed away here in 
my chamber.” 

‘‘Pooh, Michael, how easily the lies run off your 
tongue!”’ laughed Peter. ‘Tell that story to the ma- 
rines! Do you suppose I have n’t seen tricks of this 
sort by the dozen during my travels? These hearts in 
your chamber are all made of wax. You are a rich dog, 
I admit, but you are no wizard.” 

The giant tore open the chamber door, foaming with 
anger. 

‘‘Come in and read these tickets, and that one yon- 
der. . See! that is ‘ Peter Munk’s heart!’ Do you see 
how it beats? Can wax do that, think you?” 

“Pooh, pooh; nothing but wax,’’ answered Peter. 
‘That doesn’t beat like a real heart, and I have my 
own still here in my breast. You are no wizard, that’s 
certain.” 

‘‘T will prove it to you!”’ cried the giant in a rage. 
‘¢ You shall feel for yourself that it is your own heart.”’ 

"With that, he tore open Peter’s doublet, and, taking 
the stone from his breast, held it up before his eyes. 
Then he took down the true heart, and, breathing upon 
it, set it carefully in Peter’s side, and instantly the 
young man felt it beating under his ribs, and found him- 
self capable of enjoying the sensation. 

“How does it feel now?” inquired Michael with a 
laugh. 


* THE COLD HEART. 419 


*«Upon my honor, Michael, you were right,’”’ answered 
Peter, privately drawing the crucifix from his pocket. 
‘I never believed it was possible ! ”’ 

‘‘Very likely. You see now I do know a trifle of 
magic, I suppose. But come, let me put the stone back 
in its place.” 

‘Softly, Mr. Michael,”’ cried Peter, taking a step 
backwards, and holding out the crucifix. ‘‘ Men catch 
mice with bacon, and this time you are the cheated 
one.”? And he began to say a prayer, as the glass man- 
ikin had directed him. 

Hollander Michael grew smaller and smaller, and fell 
to the ground writhing like a snake, groaning and 
moaning, and all the hearts on the shelves began to 
throb and beat till it sounded like the shop of a clock- 
maker. Peter feared, however, that his courage would 
not hold out, and dreaded the power of the demon; and, 
running out of the room and out of the house, he clam- 
bered down the cliff pursued by dreadful terror; for he 
heard Michael gather himself up, and stamp and rage 
and hurl frightful curses after his flying victim. Having 
crossed the boundary, he ran swiftly to the pine grove. 
A fearful tempest was raging round him, and the light- 
ning shattered the trees on every side, but he reached 
the glass manikin’s abode without injury. 

His heart was beating joyously, but only because it 
beat at all, for he now looked back upon his past life 
with the same horror with which he had gazed on the 
tempest splintering the noble trees. He thought of his 
wife Elizabeth, that beautiful, saintly woman, whom he 
had murdered through avarice, and he looked upon 
himself as an outcast from mankind. He reached the 
dwelling of the glass manikin, weeping convulsively. 

The treasurer was sitting under a pine tree, smoking 


420 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


a little pipe, and his expression was softer than before. 
‘““Why do you weep, charcoal-burner?’’ he asked. 
‘“« Have you failed to obtain your heart? Lies the mar- 
ble still in your bosom?” 

‘“‘ Alas! sir,”’ sighed Peter, ‘‘as long as I carried a 
marble heart I never wept, and my eyes were as dry as 
the ground in July. But my old heart is almost break- 
ing at the remembrance of my crimes. I have driven 
my debtors to despair, I have set my dogs on the poor 
and sick, and you have not forgotten how my whip fell 
on that beautiful forehead! ”’ 

‘‘ Peter, you have been a great sinner!”’ said the 
dwarf. ‘‘ Money and idleness have been your ruin, till 
your heart changed to stone, and you could feel no 
longer joy or sorrow, remorse or compassion. But re- 
pentance atones for sin; and, were I sure that you felt 
remorse for your past life, it is still in my power to do 
you a great good.” 

‘‘T wish nothing more,’’ answered Peter, and his 
head sank sadly on his breast. ‘‘ Hope has fled. I can 
never be happy again. What can I do, alone in the 
world? My mother will never pardon the wrongs I 
have done to her; and perhaps, monster that I am, I 
have already brought her with sorrow to the grave! 
And Elizabeth! my dear wife! — Alas, Treasurer, 
rather strike me dead on the spot and bring my 
wretched life to an instant close!”’ 

‘‘ Well,”’ answered the dwarf, ‘‘if you are resolved 
upon it, let it be so. I have my axe ready in my hand.” 
He took his pipe quietly from his mouth, extinguished 
it, and thrust it into his pocket. Then, rising slowly 
from his seat, he disappeared behind the trees. Peter 
sat weeping on the grass; his life was worthless in his 
sight, and he waited patiently for his death-blow. Ina 


) 


THE COLD HEART. 421 


few moments he heard soft footsteps behind him, and 
thought to himself, ‘‘ He is coming now.”’ 

‘Look behind you, Peter Munk!” cried the dwarf. 
He wiped the tears from his eyes and turned his head. 
There stood his mother and Elizabeth, looking at him 
tenderly. He sprang up in a frenzy of delight. 

‘* You are not dead, then, Elizabeth! And you here, 
too, mother! Have you forgiven me?” 

‘‘They are willing to forgive you,’’ answered the 
glass manikin, ‘‘ because you feel sincere remorse. Re- 
turn now to your father’s cottage, and become a char- 
coal-burner as before. If you are honest and manly 
you will honor your occupation, and your neighbors will 
respect and love you more than if you possessed ten 
tons of gold.”? With this admonition the glass manikin 
bade them farewell. The three blessed and praised him, 
and slowly returned home. 

The handsome house of rich Peter Munk was standing 
no longer; the lightning had struck it and destroyed it 
with all his treasures. But his father’s hut stood at no 
great distance, and thither they turned their steps, 
unconcerned at the great losses they had so recently 
sustained. 

But great was their amazement when they reached 
the hut. It had been changed into a handsome farmer’s 
cottage, and all its interior arrangements, though sim- 
ple, were tasteful and good. 

‘‘The good glass manikin has done this! ”’ cried Peter. 

‘How charming!” said Elizabeth. ‘This is much 
more like home than that great house of ours with its 
crowd of servants.” 

Henceforth Peter Munk was a busy and active man. 
Contented with what he had, he applied himself indus-- 
triously to his business ; and thus it came about that he 

36 


422 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


grew prosperous through his own exertions and activity, 
and was respected and admired throughout the forest. 
He ceased to quarrel with the beautiful Elizabeth, 
treated his mother with affection and reverence, and 
gave freely to the needy who knocked at his door. 
After the lapse of a year and a day Elizabeth gave birth 
to a handsome boy, and Peter went to the pine grove 
and recited the verses. But no glass manikin answered 
to his summons. ‘‘ My Lord Treasurer,’’ he shouted, 
‘listen to me a moment. I only wish to ask you to be 
god-father to my little son.’”” No answer came back, 
but a puff of wind sighed through the pine-trees, and 
cast a few pine-cones down into the grass. ‘‘I will take 
these cones as a keepsake, since you refuse to answer 
to my call,”’ cried Peter, and, putting them in his pocket, 
went back to his cottage. But when he drew off his 
Sunday doublet, and his mother turned out the pockets 
to put the coat safely away in the press, four large rolls 
of money fell out, and, on opening them, their eyes were 
dazzled by the shine of countless, good, new, handsome 
ducats, with not a false one among them. And this 
was the present of the manikin to his little god-child. 

Henceforth they lived calmly and at peace; and Peter 
frequently said in after years, when his head was white 
and his limbs feeble: ‘‘It is far better to be contented 
with little, than to possess money and goods and a cold 
heart.” 


Five days passed away, during which Felix, the 
courier, and the student, remained the prisoners of the 
robber-band. They were well treated by the captain 
and his subordinates, but still they longed for their 
release from captivity, as every day increased their 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 423 


chances of detection. On the evening of the fifth day 
the courier informed his companions that he was deter- 
mined to force his way out of the camp that very night, _ 
even if it cost him his life. He encouraged his com- 
rades tu the same resolve, and showed them how their 
flight could be accomplished. 

‘‘T take upon myself to dispose of the sentry nearest 
us. Itis a case of necessity, and necessity knows no 
law. He must die.”’ 

‘Die! ”’ exclaimed Felix, horrified. ‘‘ Will you kill 
him?” 

‘‘T am resolved upon it,’”’ answered the courier, ‘‘ for 
thereby I save two lives. I have lately noticed the 
robbers whispering menacingly together, and, tracking 
them into the forest, have overheard the old women 
in their angry discussions betray the wicked purposes 
of the gang. They abused us bitterly, and I was able 
to make out that, in case the robbers were attacked, they 
would show no mercy to us prisoners.”’ 

‘God in heaven !”’ cried the lad in an agony of alarm, 
burying his face in his hands. 

“They have not yet put the knife to our throats,” 
continued the courier, ‘‘and we can yet be beforehand 
with them. When it grows dark I will creep along to 
the nearest sentry ; he will challenge me; I will whis- 
per to him that the countess has been suddenly taken 
very ill; and, while he hesitates, I will strike him dead. 
I will then return and take you along with me; and we 
shall have as little trouble with the second sentinel as 
the first; as for the third, it will be child’s play.”’ 

As he spoke these words the courier’s face wore so 
dangerous an expression that Felix felt greatly terrified. 
He was on the point of entreating him to renounce his 
bloody purpose, when the door of the hut gently opened, 


424 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and a man made his appearance. It was the captain. 
He closed it carefully behind him, and, making a sign 
to the two prisoners to be silent, seated himself near 
Felix and said : 

‘« My lady countess, you are in a dangerous situation. 
Your husband has not obeyed your request. He has 
not only neglected to send the ransom, but he has also 
called the authorities to his assistance, and an armed 
force is now working its way through the forest on 
every side, to capture me and my people. I warned 
your husband that I should put you to death in case he 
made any attempt to arrest us; but it seems he sets 
little value on your life, or he has no belief in my reso- 
lution. Your life is in our hands, and is forfeited 
according to our laws. What objections have you to 
oppose to this proceeding ? ”’ 

The captives were silent from terror and dismay, and 
Felix was well aware that the confession of his decep- 
tion would only enhance the peril of his situation. 

“‘T find myself unable,’’ continued the robber, ‘“ to 
assail the life of a lady who has gained, as you have 
done, my profound respect. Iwill make you, therefore, 
a proposition for your rescue, the sole means of escape 
which remains to you: J will fly with you!”’ 

The prisoners looked at him in bewilderment. He 
continued: ‘‘ The majority of my band have formed the 
resolution to fly into Italy and take service with a cel- 
ebrated band of brigands in that country. Pride will 
not permit me to obey the orders of another, and I can- 
not therefore join them in their determination. If you 
will give me your sacred word, my lady, to intercede 
for me, and to influence your powerful relatives in my 
behalf, it is not yet too late forme to set you at lib- 
erty.” 


“THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 425 


Embarrassment checked Felix’s utterance. His hon- 
est heart was reluctant wilfully to expose a man, anxious 
to save his life, to a danger from which he could not 
afterwards protect him. The captain went on: 

‘‘ Soldiers are now everywhere in demand. J will be 
content with the humblest rank of service. I know 
that your influence is great, but I ask nothing more 
than your promise to give me your assistance in the 
attainment of my wishes.’’ 

“‘Well,’”’ answered Felix, casting down his eyes, ‘I 
promise to do all in my power to be of service to you. 
It is a consolation to me, whatever the result, that you 
voluntarily retire from this life of robbery.” 

The captain kissed the gracious lady’s hand with 
much emotion, and, whispering to her to hold herself in 
readiness two hours after nightfall, left the hovel as 
silently as he had entered. The prisoners breathed 
more freely after his departure. 

“Truly,’’ exclaimed the courier, ‘‘ Heaven has influ- 
enced his heart! How wonderful will be our escape! 
My imagination never could have dreamed that an event 
like this could have happened in the world, or that we 
should ever meet with so wonderful an adventure! ”’ 

‘¢ Most wonderful, indeed !’’ answered Felix. ‘ But 
is it not a sin to deceive this man? Of what use can 
my protection be to him? Am I not leading him blind- 
fold to the gallows if I keep from him who I really 
am? *’ 

‘Nonsense, my dear boy ; pray banish all such scru- 
ples,” answered the student. ‘“ After playing your part 
with such consummate skill, too! No, your conscience 
need not suffer for this fraud; it is a case of pure self 
defence. He committed a crime in daring by shameful 
violence to capture a noble lady from the high-road, 

36* 


426 . ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


and, had it not been for your assistance, who can tell 
what would have been the countess’ fate? No, you 
have done no wrong; besides, I think he will meet with 
lenient treatment from the authorities, if he, the very 
head of this gang of villains, surrenders himself to jus- 
tice.”’ 

This last argument calmed the conscience of the 
young goldsmith. They passed the succeeding hours 
full of hope, and yet filled, too, with a gloomy appre- 
hension for the success of their plan. It was dark when 
the captain again appeared for a moment at the door of 
the hut, and said, laying down a bundle of clothes: 

‘‘ Madam, it will be necessary for you to put on these 
men’s clothes to facilitate our flight. Prepare yourself 
to set out in an hour.” 

He then left the captives, and the courier had some 
trouble to suppress a hearty laugh. 

‘‘This will be your second disguise,’’ he cried, ‘‘ and 
I will take my oath it will please you better than the 
first ! ”’ 

They opened the bundle, and found in it a handsome 
hunting-coat, which became Felix extremely. When 
he had finished dressing, the courier was about to 
throw the countess’ clothes in a corner of the cabin; but 
Felix prohibited it, and, laying them together in a little 
bundle, said he should request the countess to make 
him a present of them, that they might serve during his 
whole life as a memorial of these eventful days. 

The captain came at last. He was completely armed, 
and brought the courier his rifle and a powder-horn. 
To the student he gave a musket, and to Felix a hunt- 
ing-sword, with the request to hand it to him in case of 
need. It was fortunate for the three prisoners that the 
night was dark, for the look of exultation with which 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 427 


Felix received this weapon might have betrayed to the 
robber his true character. As they issued softly from 
the hut the courier noticed that the usual sentries had 
not been posted round the houses. It was thus possi- 
ble for them to creep unnoticed from the camp ; but the 
captain avoided the usual path which led from the defile 
into the level forest, and advanced towards a cliff which 
lay before them, perpendicular and apparently insur- 
mountable. On reaching this place, the robber pointed 
to a rope-ladder suspended from the cliff. Throwing his 
gun on his back he began the ascent, and, calling on 
the countess to follow, gave her his hand to help her 
up, while the courier and the student came last. Be- 
yond this cliff a foot-path showed itself, which the four 
fugitives hastily struck into, and hurried forward. 

‘‘This foot-path,’”’ said the captain, ‘“‘opens into the 
road to Aschaffenburg. We will go there, for I have 
certain information that the count your husband is at 
present in that neighborhood.” 

They pressed on in silence, the robber in front, the 
three others close behind. After advancing three 
leagues they halted, and the captain urged Felix to sit 
down on the fallen trunk of a tree, and recover from his 
fatigue. Here he drew some bread and a flask of old 
wine from his pocket, and offered them to the weary 
travellers. 

‘‘T think,’’ said he, ‘‘that in less than an hour we 
shall arrive at the cordon which the soldiery have drawn 
through this forest. In case we do so, I beg you to 
speak to the commander of the detachment, and request 
for me good treatment.”’ 

Felix nodded assent, though he anticipated small 
results from his intercession. They rested here for half 
an hour, and started again. They had gone on for per- 


428 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


haps an hour, and were nearing the high-road, while 
daylight was rapidly coming on, and the gloom of the 
forest giving place to the morning sun, when their prog- 
ress was suddenly arrested by a cry of ‘ Halt!” 

They obeyed, and five soldiers advanced and informed 
them they must go before the commanding-officer and 
account for themselves. 

After advancing about fifty paces, they saw weapons 
glistening in the thicket on every side, evidence that 
a large force had taken possession of the forest. The 
major was sitting under an oak, surrounded by a group 
of officers and friends. The prisonefts were set before 
him, and he was on the point of interrogating them as 
to the object of their journey, when one of the men of 
the surrounding group sprang hastily up, exclaiming : 

““My God! WhatdolIsee? This is Gottfried, our 
courier!” 

‘‘Very true, Mr. Bailiff,’”’ answered the courier in a 
delighted voice. ‘‘ Here I am, and rescued in a marvel- 
lous manner from the hands of that gang of robbers.”’ 

The officers looked surprised to see him in this situ- 
ation. The courier requested the major and the bailiff 
to step aside, and told them briefly how they had been 
rescued, and who the third person was who accompa- 
nied the goldsmith and himself. 

Delighted with this information, the major speedily 
made arrangements for effectually guarding and trans- 
porting the important prisoner; and then, leading the 
goldsmith to the group of officers, presented him to 
them as the heroic youth who had saved the countess 
from capture by his courage and presence of mind. All 
shook Felix warmly by the hand, praised him with 
enthusiasm, and were never weary of hearing. him and 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 429 


the courier describe. their adventures among the rob- 
_bers. 

By this time it was broad day. The major resolved 
to accompany the liberated captives in person into the 
city, and went with them and the countess’ bailiff to the 
nearest village, where his carriage had been left, and in 
which he insisted that Felix should also take his seat, 
The courier, the student, the bailiff, and many other 
persons, rode in front and behind, and they entered the 
city in triumph. The rumor of the strange events at 
the tavern, and of the voluntary self-sacrifice of the 
young goldsmith, had run through the country like 
wildfire, and the story of his escape was now flying 
from mouth to mouth with equal speed. Hence it was 
not to be wondered at that when they entered the city 
the streets were thronged with excited crowds, anxious 
to catch a glimpse of the youthful hero. A tumultuous 
rush took place when the carriage drove slowly through 
the gates. ‘That is he!’’ cried the populace. ‘‘See 
him there in the carriage next the officer! Long live the 
brave goldsmith!’’ And a myriad-voiced ‘‘ Hurrah!” 
filled the air. 

Felix was embarrassed and affected by the shouts of 
the crowd. But a still more moving sight met his eyes 
at the city hall. A man of middle age, magnificently 
dressed, received him at the steps and embraced him 
with tears in his eyes. 

‘‘How shall I ever recompense you, my son?” he 
cried. ‘‘ You have preserved for me a treasure of 
inestimable value! You have saved for me a wife, —a 
mother for my children. Her fragile life could never 
have survived the terrors of such an imprisonment.” 

It was the countess’ husband who was pouring out 
these thanks. Resolutely as Felix refused to accept a 


430 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


reward for his magnanimity, the count seemed no less 
resolute in insisting that he should do so. The boy 
suddenly remembered the probable fate of the robber- 
chieftain ; he told how he had saved their lives, and 
that this rescue had been intended for the countess. 
The count, moved not so much by the conduct of the 
robber as by this fresh proof of disinterestedness exhib- 
ited by Felix, promised to use his best endeavors to 
save the criminal from his deserved punishment. 

On the same day the count, accompanied by his bold 
courier, carried the goldsmith to his castle, where the 
countess, filled with anxiety for the fate of her youthful 
champion, was waiting impatiently for news of what 
had taken place. Who can picture her joy when her 
husband entered the room with her preserver at his 
side? She could not question, she could not thank him 
sufficiently. She caused her children to be brought to 
her, and showed to them the noble-hearted youth to 
whom their mother owed so large a debt of gratitude ; 
and the warm affection with which they seized his 
hands, the childlike tenderness of their earnest thanks, 
and their declarations that, next to their father and 
mother, they loved him better than all the world beside, 
were an ample recompense for his many sufferings and 
sleepless nights in the robber’s hut. 

When the first joyful moments of the happy meeting 
had passed by, the countess gave a signal to a servant, 
who soon returned, bringing the clothes and the well- 
known knapsack which Felix had entrusted to the 
countess. 

‘‘Everything is here,’’ said she, with a kind laugh, 
‘‘which you gave me in that moment of peril. Here 
are the spells you threw over me to blind the eyes of 
my pursuers. They are again at your disposal; but 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 431 


I beg you to leave these clothes with me, to be kept as 
memorials of your devotion, and accept, in exchange, 
the sum which the robbers fixed upon as my ransom.” 

Felix was frightened at the magnitude of the gift. 
His lofty spirit was reluctant to receive a reward for 
what he had done from an exalted sense of duty 

‘‘ Noble lady,”’ said he, with emotion, ‘‘I cannot suf- 
fer this. The clothes shall be yours, as you command, 
but the sum you offer I cannot take. Yet, knowing 
your desire to show me some substantial gratitude, in 
place of other reward retain me in your friendly remem- 
brance ; and, should I ever chance to need your aid, 
believe me I will not hesitate to come to you.” 

They tried long to induce the youth to change his 
resolution, but to no purpose. The countess and her 
husband submitted at last, and the servant was about 
to carry away the clothes and knapsack, when Felix 
remembered the jewels, which he had wholly forgotten 
till now in the emotions excited by so many joyful 
‘events. 

“Stop!” cried he. ‘‘ One thing, noble lady, you 
must permit me to take from my knapsack; the rest 
shall be exclusively your own.” | 

‘‘Do as pleases you best,’ said she; ‘though I 
would gladly keep all as memorials of your bravery. 
Will it be rude in me to inquire what it is lies so near 
your heart that you cannot leave it with me? ”’ 

While the countess was speaking, the young man had 
opened the knapsack and taken from it .a small red 
morocco case. 

‘‘Whatever is my own I gladly give you,” he an- 
swered, laughing; “but this box belongs to my dear 
god-mother. I made the jewels with my own hands, 
and must deliver them to hers. It isa set of ornaments, 


432 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


noble lady,’’ he continued, opening the case and hand- 
ing it to the countess, ‘‘ the work of my own industry.” 

She took the case; but no sooner had she thrown her 
eyes upon its contents than she started back in amaze- 
ment. 

‘“‘What! These jewels!’ she exclaimed. ‘‘ And 
you have made them for your god-mother, you say ?”’ 

‘‘ Yes,” answered Felix; ‘‘my god-mother sent me 
the stones, for a setting to be made for them, and I am 
on the way to restore them to her.”’ 

The countess studied his features, deeply moved, and 
the tears gathered in her eyes. ‘‘ Then you are Felix 
Perner of Nuremburg ?”’ she exclaimed. 

“Certainly! But how did you learn my name?” 
asked the youth, gazing at her bewildered. 

‘‘Q, wonderful decree of Heaven!” she cried, ad- 
dressing herhusband. ‘This is Felix, our god-son, the 
son of our faithful Sabina! Felix, I am she you are in 
search of! ”’ 

‘“What! are you then the Countess Sandau, my 
mother’s benefactress? And is this the castle Maien- 
burg? How shall I thank kind Providence for bring- 
ing us so wonderfully in contact! How shall I rejoice 
that I have been able to testify, however inadequately, 
the gratitude I feel for you?” 

‘You have done far more for me,’’ she answered, 
“than I could ever do for you. As long as I live I will 
seek to show how large is the obligation we all owe you. 
My husband shall be your father, my children your 
sisters, and I myself will be your devoted mother. And 
these ornaments, which you gave me in my hour of 
greatest peril, shall be my most precious treasures, 
for they will never cease to remind me of you and your 
noble courage.” 


THE TAVERN IN SPESSART. 433 


The countess kept her word. She equipped the happy 
Felix richly for his travels. When he came home, a 
skilful workman in his trade, she bought him a house 
in Nuremburg, which she stocked and furnished hand- 
somely ; and among the most valued decorations of his 
dwelling were two pictures, one representing the scene 
at the roadside tavern, and the other Felix’s life among 
the robbers. 

Here Felix lived, a skilful goldsmith, and the fame 
of his talents, added to the report of his wonderful 
heroism, obtained him customers from every land. 
Many strangers, passing through the fair city of Nurem- 
burg, caused themselves to be taken to the workshop 
of the famous Master Felix, not only to see and admire 
him, but to order handsome trinkets of his manufacture. 
His favorite visitors, however, were the courier, the 
compass-maker, the student, and the carrier. As often 
as the latter travelled his accustomed route, he made a 
call on Felix; the courier brought him almost every 
year presents from the countess; and the compass- 
maker, after long wandering through foreign countries, 
established himself at last with Felix. 

One day they received a visit from the student. He 
had become meanwhile a man of great distinction in 
the state, but was none the less ready and delighted to 
pass a jovial evening with Master Felix and the com- 
pass-maker. They revived in their conversation all the 
incidents of the treacherous tavern of Spessart; and 
the whilom student stated that he had since seen the 
robber-chieftain in Italy ; that his character had wholly 
altered, and he was serving as a brave soldier in the 
army of the King of Naples. 

This information gave Felix much pleasure. Though 
without this man he might never have encountered the 

37 


434 ARABIAN DAYS’ ENTERTAINMENTS. 


dangers which befell-him; yet, but for him, also, he 
would never have been rescued from the hands of the 
robbers. And thus it came to pass that the stout gold- 

smith’s reminiscences were never other than peaceful 
"and pleasant when he chanced to call to mind the 
‘“ Tavern in Spessart.’’ 


FINIS. 





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This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 


an 10 
JAN 18 1943 
OCT ! 0.1944 
JAN 36 


WL 2.3 She 


ity hi GO /* 
YIN 134 


APR7 1948 
“yun 61989 
NQV8 198° 
DEC 2 195% 


MAR 2 5 1952 


NOVS 1952. 
OCT1 ~ RECD 


NOV 9 1954 
MAR th 19556 


orm L- 


WOV 2 = 1958 


FEB 3 1960 


JAN 2 5 1962 
weg igggd 


yet 


1 ‘ wir 








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